


Are we still playing

by Reformed (GarGoyl)



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Amnesia, Angst, Anxiety, Drama & Romance, Feelings Realization, Fluff, Hurt Hinata Shouyou, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Past Rivalry, Stalking, Suspense, Thriller, mentions of depression, or it might end well, past trauma, this might end really badly
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-23
Updated: 2019-10-30
Packaged: 2019-11-28 23:00:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 20,910
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18214823
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GarGoyl/pseuds/Reformed
Summary: “So… right now are we still playing? In your head, are we still playing fucking volleyball?!”He tries to raise his voice, but is choking halfway. “Fuck, I thought you had your shit together, but it seems you’re still stuck into some dumb volleyball match from fucking high-school!”In his third year of college, during a volleyball break, Ushijima unexpectedly runs into Hinata, an art student now. He instantly recognizes his old rival, but to his shock Hinata doesn’t remember him at all. Wakatoshi finds himself still intrigued with the petite redhead and as they get closer and closer he thinks he’s left the past behind and can even be happy. But the past comes back to haunt him and his feelings are put to the test when things suddenly take a very dangerous turn.[I don't own anything]





	1. Chapter 1

_“Someone showed me a YouTube video of that inter-high prefectural match or whatever… ”_ _Shoyou pauses, looking up at him and blinking slowly. No emotion shows on his face this time, but his hunched shoulders are tense. “So… right now are we still playing? In your head, are we still playing_ fucking volleyball _?!”_

_He tries to raise his voice, but is choking halfway. “Fuck, I thought you had your shit together, but it seems you’re still stuck into some dumb volleyball match from fucking high-school!”_

_Ushijima blinks too, suddenly out of air. “No! Why would you-”_

_“Is that why you lied to me, kept this shit from me all this time? Because that day you swore you’d_ crush _me? That’s what he said.”_

* * *

 

They really play like crap, all of them. His old coach would cringe at the sight of the basic, beginner mistakes everyone keeps making, but then again, no one puts any mind into it, it’s not even a practice match. The college doesn’t have a volleyball team and Wakatoshi and his new friends are so saddled up with work anyway that they can only spare short moments like this to relax a bit, as a break from the long hours of studying and toiling on various projects. Business school is far more taxing than he’d imagined and, as he grips the ball ready to serve and tosses it up in the air, going through the familiar, long practiced motions reminds him how much he actually doesn’t like it.   

He plays to get out of his head and into his body, to _get out_ period, but it’s a toxic form of escapism. His damned thoughts always creep back in, usually right when he finally starts to enjoy himself a little bit, managing to go past the fact that the hall is so small and the rows of seats mostly empty, and that they’re so few people he can play with these days, that it’s so painfully _quiet_. But Wakatoshi gets over it eventually, energized, caught in the game, as crappy as it is, and then it happens.

He remembers he didn’t want this.

Just because he was able to pull through with decent grades for the past two years and a half doesn’t mean he belongs here. Or in the office where he’ll go for internship next year.

_Damn it!_

The ball flies back and he inhales, licking his lips in anticipation, dark olive-brown eyes following it eagerly. This makes him feel alive. Feel like he can breathe again, free, unhinged. _This_ -

But then his mind gets in the way and messes it up – his hands are not raised quick enough for a proper receive and instead of sending it back over the net the ball goes up and backwards, high above his head, towards the audience seats. Wakatoshi turns on his heels with an angry huff, just in time to see it go to over where two boys sit hunched together over some papers and hit one of them straight in the face.

 _“OI! WHAT THE HELL?!”_ the other yells, throwing Ushijima an angry glare as the brunet leaves the court and rushes up the stairs, towards them.

The boy who’s been hit is now slumped into the seat, hands clamped tightly over his nose and one eye, the other one closed, breathing heavily.  Ball in hand, Wakatoshi leans down to collect the sketchbook which has fallen from the other student’s lap, several pages scattered from it. There are many rough pencil drawings in it - of the hall, of various players in motion, (himself included – there’s something about the shape of his upper body that’s unmistakable) - some details barely sketched, others worked over with more precision. Funny, he’d never thought art students would come here to actually observe and draw him and his friends while they’re playing and there’s an odd excitement in that idea, he feels just a bit flattered.     

“I’m very sorry! Are you okay?”

The boy nods weakly but slumps further, not managing any words yet.

“Shoyou, let me see,” the other says, a tissue in hand, finally prying his hands away and Wakatoshi freezes, eyes suddenly wide. Even hidden under that black hood, he’d recognize that face anywhere – it’s _him_.

_The Karasuno shrimp._

_What the-_

“I’m fine, j-just… I got scared,” the ginger mutters, refusing the tissue. His nose isn’t bleeding, the ball got him more in the eye and forehead, but it’s probably bound to leave an ugly bruise.

“It’s you!” What the hell was his name again?! Ah, yes, _Hinata_. _Hinata Shoyou_. “Hinata! What are you doing here?!” Ushijima hears himself say and it doesn’t really make any sense, why is he talking to the shrimp like they’re… like they’re what? _Not even acquaintances._ He clears his throat awkwardly. “I mean, how come you’re not playing?”

God, that’s even worse, it’s not like he wants the shrimp to play with him or anything! He doesn’t even have an idea what the shrimp is doing here in the first place, maybe he’s not even a student at this college! And he already apologized, why can’t he just walk away and forget about it?

But the younger looks up at him questioningly, blinking. Puzzled. He studies Wakatoshi’s face curiously, yet without any spark of acknowledgement. He doesn’t seem to recognize him at all and for a brief moment the brunet wonders if he hasn’t made a goof, mistaking the boy for someone else. But it can’t be, the other called him ‘Shoyou’, it would be too much of a coincidence.

“You _are_ Hinata Shoyou, aren’t you?” he asks, unnecessarily, especially when the other pulls back his hood and runs a small hand through the trademark bright orange hair, ruffling it further.

“Yeah, I am. But, um… I had an accident about two years ago and I don’t… uh… don’t remember anything from before.” He shrugs, letting out a small, apologetic laugh. “I’m sorry, it’s just kinda weird to explain this and it’s-… it’s really bad when I run into someone I’m supposed to know and I don’t. I didn’t mean to be rude.”

Ushijima simply stares with a vague scowl, completely taken aback by the unexpected, disarming confession he’s unable to fully process just yet.  His lips are slightly parted – he should say something, probably, but nothing comes to mind.

“You played volleyball?” the other boy asks, breaking the awkward silence.

“That’s what they said, back when I was at Karasuno,” the ginger shrugs again. “But now, after I got a ball in my face, heh… I really wouldn’t try, even if I could.”

_If he could?_

“But… did you go to Karasuno too?” he asks Wakatoshi as the two smaller boys stand to leave, collecting their things. He notices that Hinata is still as petite as ever, he hasn’t grown any taller. Also, that he now walks with a slight limp, which is only visible if you pay close attention.

“What? Ah, no… No, only we met during a practice match once…”

And that’s it. Right then and there, without thinking, without even knowing why, Ushijima serves his first lie.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! I just want to say thank you all so much for the kudos and comments, they mean a lot to me!! <3<3<3 So enjoy and maybe give me your thoughts ;)

 

* * *

 

Two weeks pass from that day and the shit-ton of assignments effectively take Wakatoshi’s mind off anything that isn’t school as he falls into a depressing routine of work, eat, sleep and repeat. After classes he stays cooped up inside his dorm room or the library, constantly brooding as he toils, barely exchanging a word with anyone. He doesn’t have to be so strict though, he could spare an hour or two for a volleyball match once every two or three days, but seeing the Karasuno shrimp again has been a nasty surprise which brought back _all that shit_ and now he’s too upset to play. 

_What would be the point anyway?!_

He no longer has any drive for it, no goal, it doesn’t mean anything anymore. Not worth the effort – it’s not like he can reverse time and go back there, to that time when he was still hoping, no, when he was sure that he’d-… Before his mother and her side of the family put their foot down and crushed his dreams.

_‘In the end, volleyball is not going to get you anywhere. You need a serious profession’._

And they used that final defeat against him.

Technically, it didn’t mean anything – just because his high-school team had failed to make it to the nationals in his third year didn’t mean that he wasn’t ready, that _he wasn’t good enough_ to be selected and become a professional volleyball player. But they used it anyway, that damned moment of weakness, of insecurity.

‘ _That’s not it, they were probably going to do this anyway at some point… like maybe right after nationals? I mean how many people actually go pro after all?_ ’ Satori told him at the time and the Guess Monster was one of good intuition. Still, in the end it doesn’t matter _why or how_ it happened. Getting to the bottom of it doesn’t make Wakatoshi feel any less like he’s rotting alive.

But he needs to let it go.

It’s been more than two years, he needs to let the past go and look forward to the future. He knows that, but it’s easier said than done. Sure, Ushijima has heard the saying that happiness breeds more happiness and negativity brings about more reasons to be miserable, but he doesn’t believe it until it actually happens.

It’s a cold, late afternoon at the end of March. It may look like spring already but as the sun goes down the wind becomes biting, forcing Wakatoshi to speed up his step as he shivers in the light coat the morning sun fooled him into wearing. He’s tired and even moodier than usual, and the sight of a newly-opened café at the edge of the campus reminds him that he missed lunch.

Absently, the brunet wanders inside drawn in by the rich aroma of butter croissants and plops into a cushioned seat, setting his notes binder on the table with a long sigh. He throws a vacant glance around before whipping out his phone to check his Instagram feed– the cafe is cozy but much too artsy-fancy for his taste, it’s the kind of place he’d bring a girl to, maybe. He for one has no interest in the plushy, black-and-white striped sofas or the abstract paintings decorating the walls. Truth be told, he doesn’t care much for pastries either, but he’s hungry and hoping they at least have decent coffee.

“Hello and welcome! What can I get you?”

Ushijima barely registers the waiter’s voice, save for the light snort which precedes the question, and his gaze briefly tears from the screen to land on the glossy one-page menu already laid out on the table.

“Um, I think I’ll have a long espresso and a simple butter croissant, no filling. Thanks,” he mutters, without a single glance towards the man, resuming his bored scrolling through the feed.

Shortly afterwards his order arrives, a fine porcelain cup and plate gracefully placed in front of him by an elegant, long-fingered hand.

“You know, I was wondering when you’d eventually show up here to give us some bad vibes, Ushiwaka,” the waiter says instead of ‘Enjoy’ and Wakatoshi’s head snaps up abruptly to stare at the owner of the suddenly familiar voice.

None other than Tooru Oikawa now stands beside his seat, watching him quizzically from behind a fancy pair of black-rimmed glasses. The former Seijoh captain looks as sharp as ever, chestnut hair perfectly styled and the crisp white shirt and black dress slacks flattering his slender form. His smug air is unchanged as well and the other’s irritation spikes tenfold at this very unlucky encounter. His day already sucked and this was the last thing he needed.

“You work here?” Wakatoshi asks mindlessly (and stupidly, because the answer is obvious), for lack of a better reaction. “Huh. I didn’t know you had come to this college as well, I haven’t seen you around until now… And, uh, this place is new, isn’t it?” he asks with a scowl.

“We opened in December. You missed all the promotions,” Tooru trolls him with a grin, appearing entertained at the very least. “Oh, _I_ have seen _you_ several times during these years. But I was quick to sense the usual ‘you-should-have-come-to-Shiratorizawa’ bad vibe from far enough and steered clear from your path just in time, heh.”

_Twist the knife in the wound, why don’t you…_

He nods slowly, grumpily. “So, what do you mean ‘us’ anyway? Who else is here?” Might as well take the whole shit spoonful in one go.

“Well, I’m sure you remember _the infamous Chibi-chan_ ,” Oikawa says with a smile, stepping aside slightly to reveal a certain petite redhead perched behind the counter and fumbling with his sketchbook. He’s wearing the same crisp white shirt and purple velvet bowtie as the former setter. “He’s on the next shift.”

_Well. The planets surely have aligned today, damn it._

“Yeah,” Wakatoshi replies, leaning back in his seat, forcing the scowl off his face in an attempt to ‘regroup’. “Actually, I met him a couple of weeks back at the gym, while I was playing some volleyball with my friends.” He stresses the last two words out of impulse – his friends are not actually that close, not the way his high-school team was anyway, but Oikawa doesn’t need to know that. He _mustn’t_ know that, or how bad they play, or how unhappy he is with how things are in general right now. Damn it, he shouldn’t have mentioned this at all, better change the subject. “But as it turned out, he doesn’t remember me though.”

“I’d say that’s the least sad thing about what happened to him. But what was he doing there?”

“He was drawing the players, the game, stuff like that,” Ushijima shrugs indifferently, momentarily ignoring the questions popping in his mind as he takes a bite of croissant.  “He drew me too.”

Technically it’s not a lie, he did see himself in the shrimp’s sketches, but it looked like a random study among many, thus meaning absolutely nothing, and most importantly this is hardly enough to really rub Oikawa’s well-known vanity the wrong way. For that reason alone it’s kind of a half-assed thing to say – looks like the Seijoh bastard caught him on the wrong foot today.

A brief look of surprise appears on the other’s face, but melts quickly into more smiles. “Pfttt... you sound flattered.”

Maybe he was.

He shrugs again. “Maybe you should try it sometime as well, I bet you too have some artsy-pansy major, don’t you?”

“Yeah, but mine’s interior design, what I always wanted to do,” Tooru clarifies amused. “Also, I do remember you quite well, so I have absolutely no excuse to do something like that.”

Wakatoshi snorts. Unfortunately for him there are only a few people in the cafe at this hour, so it looks like Oikawa has plenty of time to antagonize him to his black little heart’s content.

“So,” he asks casually between bites, “Don’t tell me you’re friends with Shrimpy now that you work together and he doesn’t remember anything.” He couldn’t care any less, but the former setter seems to know stuff he’s unwilling to share so there’s a chance that asking about it might annoy him.

“Oh, and why not? Truth be told he was never an asshole like the other brat he used to hang out with all the time – my _kouhai_ \- and even if he doesn’t remember, I guess it was fun to... start anew on the ashes of our past rivalry. I even told him that he kinda used to piss me off back in the day, heh.”

He laughs lightly, and suddenly Ushijima is reminded why the former Seijoh captain has always irritated him. The guy can just open his mouth and spill whatever he thinks – and does not _overthink_ – with an ease and clarity which makes Wakatoshi look (and feel) like a constipated grinch in comparison.

“Well, I’d love to stay and chat some more but my shift is over in five minutes, so I’m afraid have to get going now. See you around and don’t forget to leave a five-star review on our Facebook page!” Oikawa says next with a wink and sticking the tip of his tongue out, before waltzing away graciously and no doubt satisfied with the even sourer mood he’s managed to leave Wakatoshi in.    

Sipping on his bitter coffee, the other brunet watches him as he slips behind the counter and says something to the absorbed first-year hunched over his work while patting the boy’s shoulder affectionately and making the petite ginger smile in turn. That’s another thing, equally aggravating – Oikawa’s always been popular, he knows what to say to make people like him, he makes friends easily when he wants to.

Again in contrast, Wakatoshi isn’t a chatty person - he usually says what’s on his mind concisely and to the point, sadly more often than not managing to come off as blunt and tactless. It’s a fact, he’s bad with words and soft skills and he’s been deemed by many as a thoroughly unpleasant person, the former Seijoh captain included. Still, he’s quickly realized the importance of this lacking ability upon getting into college, where his volleyball skills didn’t matter anymore and Ushijima needed to start cultivating other qualities instead, so he does think that he’s made at least some progress since his high-school years.

Not a very big progress though, the business student concludes, unable to help comparing himself with the other. But there’s something else Wakatoshi lacks as well – namely the ability to resist a challenge, whether it’s out in the open or he barely sniffs it, and even if it’s only in his head. And that’s the thing, right now he can’t help but feel challenged on some deep, essential level by these two persons who have moved on with their lives past their history together and who do not share his current misery.  

Leaving some bills on the table, the brunet picks up his half-empty coffee cup and walks towards the counter with slow, casual steps, coming to take perch on one of the bar stools right in front of the infamous Karasuno shrimp. Oikawa has disappeared somewhere in the back, so there’s no danger, he thinks. Danger of what? He couldn’t say. He doesn’t even know why he’s doing this in the first place, why he’s choosing to twist the knife of painful memories in his own wound.

Hinata is caught up in his work – whatever that is – the one free hand currently busy ruffling his ginger strands into a complete mess, and Wakatoshi wonders if he’s done this before, when he was still playing volleyball.  If he too had always had a plan B to cling onto _afterwards_ , just like everyone else aside from him, apparently.

“Hey,” the older student greets quietly and a tad uncertain.

The shrimp looks up at him, puzzled at first, but then he smiles – a bright, pure and luminous smile Wakatoshi has never seen before - and for the second time in less than an hour he is caught with his guard down.

 

 

 

 

 


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! Love ya all so much for spoiling me and welcome to another chap!

“Hi,” Shoyou greets in turn. “Uh, I’m afraid I didn’t catch your name the other day?”

The brunet clears his throat, straightening his back. “Ushijima. Ushijima Wakatoshi.” His eyes dart nervously past the redhead’s shoulder, towards the staff door. This is a mistake – what if Oikawa comes back and catches him?! Bullshit, he’s not doing anything suspicious, he’s just talking, right? Still, it would be great if the Seijoh bastard spared him of his presence for the rest of the day.

“Oh. Nice to meet you again, Wakatoshi.”

The smaller boy is still smiling, slightly curious, so he’s encouraged.

“I didn’t know you work here.”

 _God, I just said the same stupid shit twice!_  

Ushijima scowls, mentally face-palming. He needs to come up something that actually makes sense, and quick. Fortunately, his eyes land on a barely visible, fading bruise just above the other’s eyebrow, living proof of Ushijima’s dwindling volleyball skills. “Anyway, I guess I just wanted to say sorry again for that,” he points. “I hope it wasn’t… too bad.”

“What, this?” Hinata’s fingers fly to his own forehead, briefly feeling the spot. “Nah, it was nothing. I got away with worse, heh.”

_Yep, you took one in that match too, gotta be used to it…_

The brunet shakes his head. “I’m glad to hear that but still, that day you had to leave because of me and it looked like I kind of… ruined your project, or whatever it was you guys were working on?” He glances down at the open sketchbook, hopeful.

“Ah, no, don’t worry,” Shoyou shrugs, pulling away and suddenly looking a bit bashful. “It wasn’t going too well anyway…”

“Oh? You didn’t like the game?”

 _It_ was _a shitty one after all._ And where there’s no bite and no hidden meaning in the other’s words, Wakatoshi’s inner chagrin still manages to find one. _Fuck._

The ginger sighs, grabbing the sketchbook and putting it away somewhere under the counter as he chews onto his bottom lip. “Ah, no, that’s not-… The thing was that we needed a motion-themed project for school, my roommate and I, and he said that it won’t do working after photos, that we need to draw something _live_. Like, to be able to feel the…um… _energy_ of it as it happens, you know? And a real match with audience and all would have been much too crowded and noisy, so we wouldn’t have been able to get any work done and stuff…”

“Well, I think that’s quite an original idea, no?”

Not that he genuinely cares, but at least it’s something to talk about. Wakatoshi feels the need to keep this going, to prod further, for reasons which are still to be clarified, even to himself. One thing is certain though and keeps coming back on his mind – Oikawa’s perfect smile has bitterly reminded him of the old feeling of competition between the two of them, which for Wakatoshi went beyond mere volleyball skills. Oikawa used to be loved by his high-school team, because he was so fucking _charming_ and Ushijima beating him at volleyball again and again did not make him any less of a cave troll in turn. Fuck, he needs to be charming too, he needs to have that enticing power that the former Seijoh setter wields with so much ease!  

“Eh, not really. One of our teachers said that Degas used to go to the Opera in Paris to draw the performing ballet dancers for his paintings. And he was sketching _as they danced_ , because the poses and suggested movements needed to look realistic, you know?” Hinata pauses, scratching his head with a scrunch of his button nose. “Anyway, at that time it sounded doable… but it’s not really. You can’t draw in real time, as it is, obviously, but to get anything done right you need to be really fast and have a very good visual memory. I couldn’t-”

Wakatoshi looks around – the café is still empty – then leans forward on his elbows, next to his cup. “Can I see?” he asks quietly, with a light smile, eyebrows raised a bit.

The redhead glances up, meeting his gaze curiously. “You know stuff about drawing?”

“I know stuff about volleyball.”

“Uh… okay.”

The older student watches intently as the other pulls out the sketchbook again, leafing through it uncertain as he’s looking for something. Ushijima notices with some displeasure that the flying pages from the other day are gone – he’s quite sure that one drawing of him he’d spotted that day was in them – but then the shrimp finally finds what he wanted and turns the page towards him.

“What do you think of this one?”

It’s a relatively large drawing of a player caught in mid-jump, body arched and knees bent as he flies, one hand outstretched and the other pulled back, ready to spike the ball. The pencil silhouette stretches across the whole page in elusive, hesitant lines, as if the artist wasn’t entirely sure, hadn’t quite caught the rapid motion as it was happening. Yet, while decisive shape is missing, unexpected details are present – light and shadows, the barely suggested yet visible bulge of taut muscles.  There’s a teasing beauty to it and the brunet’s smile returns. As far as he knows, there was no other volleyball player in the gym that day resembling the drawing or able to jump quite like that, and considering the angle and where the shrimp was sitting…

“You made it on the spot? _Live_?” he asks, seeking to confirm his suspicion.

Hinata looks a little flustered at the question, cheeks dusting pink almost inconspicuously. “Ah, no, no. There was another, rougher sketch I made there and I did this later, based on that first one… Anyway, it’s not-… I mean we ended up doing something else for the project, but I’d like to finish this one too sometime, if I can figure it out. I’ll try looking for some similar pictures or something.”

 _So he_ was _drawing me. Maybe that’s why he was in such a hurry to leave, maybe I was making him nervous. But now he wanted me to see this?_

It’s a puzzling thought, could it be that the shrimp is secretly flirting with him? He didn’t seem the type at all back then, completely lacking that playful-teasing vibe that, for example, Tendou had more often than not, quite on the contrary. As far as Wakatoshi remembers, no one at Karasuno seemed to be the sly, flirty type, displaying instead an incisive, almost aggressive kind of competitiveness, especially Hinata (which was all the more revolting considering his age, size and mediocre volleyball skills).

But that was almost three years before, people change in unexpected ways – _Chibi-chan_ is an _artist_ now and friends with the Seijoh bastard, who is bound to be a bad influence one way or the other. Maybe Hinata too took a liking to playing this sort of dubious games and Ushijima knows that he’s attractive, albeit in a raw and unpolished way. Unquestionably, more than a few people dig that, but he thinks he could do even better.

_What if this is a game?_

Well, if it is, Wakatoshi can play too.

He leans in a little closer, taking his time examining the drawing. “Oh? What is it that you can’t figure out? Or…?”

“It’s a bit stiff.” The redhead bites his bottom lip, with an uncertain scowl. “Here? It doesn’t look quite natural.” He takes out a pencil and points with it, tip hovering over the page.

_What do you know, he’s far less confident about his drawing skills than he was back then about his volleyball skills, although the truth is clearly the other way around._

“Nah, it’s just about right. Maybe… here, the knees a bit more bent,” Ushijima says, dead serious. “And elbow a bit higher.”

To his surprise, the smaller boy takes his critique equally seriously, getting to work on the spot and making corrections quickly. His fingertips blacken as he messily uses them as a pencil eraser and Wakatoshi notices how small Shoyou’s hands are. It’s unlikely someone could spike or block a ball with such tiny hands and yet back then he did it, he-… 

“It looks hard, doesn’t it?” the brunet says, struggling to keep the bitterness from his voice. “Jumping like this, I mean.” _It doesn’t matter, damn it!_ He needs to focus in the now.

“Eh, yeah…”

“A lot of people do it though,” he presses, even if Hinata doesn’t seem to pay attention. “You used to do it too. I saw you jump really high.”

“If you say so… Surely if I remembered how it’s done, I would have gotten this right,” the other mumbles noncommittally, as if it’s something better dismissed not delved into any further, that past life of his.

 _Past_. Well, that is so. Ushijima wishes it were that simple for him too, to let go of that which he still grips with imaginary fingers even if it moves further and further away each day. All that hard work, all that effort, all those dreams he used to live for, he’s supposed to walk away as if nothing had ever-… No, he has _already_ walked away, but has yet to internalize it, after almost three years.

“Your mind forgot, but your body remembers.”

Hinata looks up at him brusquely, large amber-tinged brown eyes widened.

“My volleyball coach used to say that – that our bodies retain certain patterns of movement even if we’re not consciously aware of them anymore. It’s just like riding the bicycle, technically you can’t forget.”

“Oh… right.” The ginger’s eyes return to the paper slowly, examining the final result of his work. “Except my body is fucked up too,” he says quietly.

Wakatoshi nearly flinches, fighting the urge to recoil in the face of his own goof. There it is, he’s done it again, he screwed it!

“I-I’m sorry… I forgot that-…I mean-”

“No, no, it’s okay,” Shoyou assures him, shaking his head with a smile which looks a little fake now. “You didn’t know and I look fine, so most people can’t tell something’s wrong.”

_Something’s wrong? Does he mean the limp? And what-_

Actually, he has no idea what happened to the shrimp, why he’s amnesic in the first place. He did mention an accident, but that could mean pretty much anything. Still, he wouldn’t be working here as a waiter if his condition was that serious, or would he? Ushijima doesn’t know and suddenly feels bad about the whole thing. The other may be playing a little, but that doesn’t mean he isn’t very vulnerable in the same time.

An awkward silence stretches between them for a few moments, only to be broken by something infinitely more awkward.

Wakatoshi hears footsteps behind him and panics for a second, before turning to see a petite, pink-haired girl in a colorful dress walking towards the counter slightly wobbly on the high-platform shoes. Grinning widely under heavy make-up, she says something he can’t quite focus on – because his mind is busy overthinking his latest fuck-up social skills-wise – and offers to both him and Hinata some glossy flyers.

Numbly, Ushijima glances down at the elegant piece of paper in his hand and freezes - it’s a recruitment ad for a video chat studio. _WHAT THE HELL?!_ Does he look like the kind of person who would-

“…look, gothic Lolitas are very much in at the moment and I think you’d look very cute in a costume! Nothing too much, just a little black lace dress with short puffy sleeves and maybe cat ears to match?”

“Uh, a-actually I don’t think-…”he hears the shrimp stuttering.  

“Just give it some thought, okay sweetie? The costumes are really comfortable and,” the girl pauses to wink suggestively. “The pay is totally worth it! You too, handsome,” she adds, long fake-nailed fingers briefly grazing the side of Wakatoshi’s arm before she walks away.

He clears his throat awkwardly while on the other side of the counter Hinata is busy stuffing the flyer into a recycling trash container. “Damn, I didn’t know they recruited on campus…” While it’s true that technically everyone around here is at least eighteen, it’s still a disturbing thought, as is the mental image of the petite ginger in a cute black dress and cat ears. He refuses to dwell on it.

“Eh, yeah, we get them all the time,” the smaller boy grumbles, avoiding his gaze. “But they give them out in the street as well.”

_We?_

Well, Ushijima can bet Oikawa gets a lot of these – and that makes sense too – but the shrimp looks far too innocent for this sort of thing. But then again, they probably give them to a lot of people without really choosing, it doesn’t mean anything. If he went out more, he’d know about this stuff.

“I never got one before so it kind of took me by surprise, I guess. I don’t think I’d look good in a dress though.”

Hinata laughs lightly, shaking his head. “They wouldn’t put you in a dress, they’d probably give you a sharp butler suit.”

Which would hardly be any less cringe-worthy, Wakatoshi thinks, mindlessly folding the glossy flyer and pocketing it as he checks the time on his phone. “Well, I gotta get going, it was nice chatting with you, Shoyou.”

“Yeah, and thanks for the help!” the shrimp replies with a wide smile, gathering the sketchbook and clutching it to his chest in a childish fashion.

Ushijima returns the smile as he slides off his seat and then walks out after mumbling a noncommittal ‘see you around’.

_I’d like to see you again_

Damn it. He wanted to say it, but he couldn’t. Not yet. 


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What’s up y’all? I’ve had a bit of a writer’s block as of late, but now I’m finally over it and ready to hit ya with another chap. Enjoy and give me your thoughts!

****

_Warning: substance abuse_

 

He can’t get over it.

It’s a known fact that the more you want to avoid thinking about something, the more that thing keeps popping up again and again in your mind until it drives you up the wall.

He needs to do something about what happened at the café the other day and the best thing would be to just forget it and focus on his tasks, go back to his life as it was before meeting the Karasuno shrimp and Oikawa again. But he can’t and now he must do something, but he doesn’t even know what he wants. One (probably) flirted with him, the other trolled him but all in all – the underlying emotion Wakatoshi was left with – was that they both pretty much got on his nerves by inadvertently emphasizing how shitty his life has ended up to be as well as his own personal shortcomings.

Still, _maybe_ he’d like to see Hinata again, which is extra annoying since he doubts that the redhead will show up at the gym now that he’s done with his project and he – obviously - can’t go back to the café. Not only is the Seijoh bastard there too, but chances are he already told _Chibi-chan_ by now all about Wakatoshi and that _fucking game_ … And if that happened, most likely the shrimp’s supposed interest in him was already replaced by suspicion, if not wariness. 

_Fuck._

Sitting stiffly straight in his seat, Ushijima struggles to pay attention to the teacher’s droning and to take notes as the class progresses. He may tolerate other subjects but hates this abstract aberration called macroeconomics with a passion - hence the deep scowl on his face - still, the brunet holds his ground, being one of the very few who actually pay attention amidst the crowd of bored and/or half-asleep students. It’s very early in the morning too, the kind of hour found rather inhumane especially by regular party-goers such as Wakatoshi’s roommate, who is fingering his phone with an absent air, fighting to keep his eyes open.

The guy is an idiot with no personal discipline who has never woken up at dawn to go for a run but at least he seems to be enjoying himself quite a lot. Ushijima rarely goes to parties, not only because he’s still rather awkward in social situations but also because he has an instinctive fear of alcohol, left from the days of coach Washijou, who used to be very strict with the team’s diet. He is aware though that those days are long gone, he’s a free man now and a bit of alcohol could maybe make him feel more at ease, but then again it could make it worse, too.  

“So, is it true that you landed a new guy?”

The whispered question breaks Wakatoshi’s concentration, adding to his annoyance - he always hates it when people decide to have a hushed chat in his proximity during class.   

“Yep… last week,” the brunet’s roommate replies, a cheeky grin which does not escape his grumpy neighbor widening his mouth.

“Someone looks happy…”

“Well he’s something else, something _new_. Geez, I needed this, you know? I mean he’s an art student.”

 _Seriously?_ Just how badly is the karma planning to fuck with him?!

His roommate looks excited, even if he tries to hide it, a happy smile keeps splitting his face in two even as he’s struggling to feign a relative indifference and Ushijima is bitterly reminded that he’s hardly ever felt _excited_ about any of his college flings to date. They’ve been quite a few, but none of them ever meant anything more than a means to blow off some steam.

 “So what are art students like?”

“Hmm… they fuck around a lot and smoke weed.”

“Did you know?”

Wakatoshi blinks a few times, realizing that this time the question is meant for him. But it figures, since he is currently staring at the two as if he’s actually interested in their conversation.

He shrugs, clearing his throat. “No… But I guess it makes sense, they need to be inspired or something…”

His roommate snorts quietly, with an all-knowing smirk, while the other boy chuckles openly. “Yeah, sure, _inspired_ …”

“You guys wanna try?” the first one asks suddenly.

“Try what?”

_…an art student? No, fuck it, fuck! Just fucking drop it already!_

“Weed, you bunch of grandpas!”

Ushijima nearly flinches at the suggestion -coach Washijou would kill him to know that he’s as much as thinking of it! Because he _is_ thinking right now, maybe it’s what he needs to take his mind off things for a bit. Sure, weed might be even worse than alcohol, but…fuck it.

* * *

 

Wakatoshi is pretty sure this place is illegal.

There’s a regular pub on the ground floor, but in the back there’s a staircase accessible only to certain customers leading to a basement which is set up very much like the opium dens of old. He’d thought they were gonna do it in one of their dorm rooms, but his roommate’s new boyfriend thinks that would lack the proper atmosphere. Well, the atmosphere down here is proper alright, still Wakatoshi hopes they won’t end up arrested by the end of the night – it’d be an absolute blast explaining this to his parents.

Momentarily left to his own devices by the small group, he wanders a bit around the dim-lit communicating rooms with hands stuffed in his jacket pockets. The low sofas look soft and inviting, furthering the feeling of ease given by the scented smoke which hangs heavily in the air. The student feels oddly relaxed, light-headed even, but it’s a good feeling.  Maybe this wasn’t such a bad idea after all, maybe-

_Maybe I’m even getting lucky_

A lazy grin stretches the brunet’s mouth as he spots none other than _Chibi-chan_ the _artist_ lying on a sofa, messy orange locks gleaming against the navy blue pillow they’re fanned out on. On the floor, next to the sofa, a boy and a girl are shamelessly making out, but the redhead is oblivious to this – his eyes are closed and the free hand is hanging limply over the edge.  He’s probably taking a nap – Wakatoshi thinks – still he shrugs out of his jacket and goes to sit down next to the other’s lifted knees, Hinata’s small, sock-clad toes nearly pressing into his thigh. Still, the shrimp doesn’t notice him, nor does the kissing couple nearby.

The roommate he’s nearly forgotten about emerges from the shadows to bring him a pipe and he takes it with doubting fingers, squinting at the little unfamiliar device.

“…so how do I-?”

But the other has already disappeared again, so Wakatoshi must figure it out for himself. He’s never smoked _anything_ in his life, but how hard can that be, anyway? He cautiously brings it to his lips and takes a long, forceful drag all at once, inhaling. His mouth and throat fill with smoke and he chokes, breaking into a violent cough and standing up in panic.

“Hey, are you okay over there?”

Ushijima turns slightly, facing the now awake ginger who has craned his neck up, eyeing him with concern, and nods between coughs.

“Take it easy, yeah? Breathe,” the shrimp instructs, leaning back down on the pillow.

The brunet takes a deep breath, feeling positively dizzy now, and wants to sit back down, but discovers the younger’s short legs stretched over his seat.     

“Ah, sorry,” Hinata mutters, noticing and lifting his knees again to make room for him. “I haven’t seen you here before, Wakatoshi,” he adds as Ushijima slumps against the backrest, the pipe forgotten in his limp hand.

So _Chibi-chan_ remembers his name - the other notes - but what does this mean? Has he found out the truth already or this is just based on their last encounter? And how could _he_ find that out? Ask directly? Drop a hint? Fuck, why does it have to be so complicated?!

“Mmmm… It’s my first time actually. I let my roommate drag me here, but I don’t know if-…” He shrugs, blinking slowly as he struggles with words yet again. “What about you? Come here often?”

“Yeah, unfortunately…”

“ _Unfortunately_?”

The redhead shifts, adjusting his pillow with his free hand before taking a short drag and blowing the smoke upwards, in small, soft clouds. “Yeah, it helps with the pain.”

Ushijima flinches inwardly, the unexpected confession serving to sober him somewhat. Should he have expected something like this? No, because he still doesn’t know what happened to the shrimp in the first place, but maybe now he can finally get to the bottom of it.

“Are you in pain?” he asks, clearing his throat softly.

“My knee is a pain in the ass every now and then but my back is the worst,” Hinata grumbles. “Especially after a week of shifts and running around… I’ve got some painkillers on prescription, but they’re kinda shit.”

_Does that mean he comes here every Friday night? No, that’s not important now…_

“Ah, fuck, I’m sorry to hear! I guess you can, uh… stretch if you want?”

To his complete surprise, Shoyou takes him up on his offer without the slightest hesitation, stretching his legs again such that his slim calves end up lying across Wakatoshi’s thighs. He’s wearing soft, loose cotton track pants rolled up below the knee, fair skin showing, smooth and warm as the older student lazily rests his forearms and hands on top of them. Not that he isn’t confused as fuck as Hinata doesn’t react in any way – what does this sudden familiarity mean? Does it mean anything even? Is the shrimp flirting with him again?

_No, no, don’t think about it, you’ll only fuck up again if you do_

“Is this because of the accident?”  He hopes the question is not too intrusive.

“Yeah…”

The ginger’s arm is thrown over his eyes, the other still hanging over the edge, his body abandoned, completely vulnerable. Wakatoshi stares down at his own lap, at his hands as they move slowly, without his will, stroking ever-so-gently. He is a total creep for doing this, but whatever, he can blame it on the weed.

“Mind telling me what happened?”

“…huh?”

“The accident, I mean.”

“Oh, that… I was in a car crash.”

Wakatoshi’s hands pause as the information sinks in and he panics when Shoyou suddenly props himself up on one elbow, looking around with a scowl before pulling out his phone and squinting at the screen. Still, his legs remain in the brunet’s lap, as if he hasn’t noticed anything.

“Uh… where did those two go?”

Ushijima blinks – does he mean the kissing couple? He didn’t even notice them disappearing, being vaguely aware that people move around the rooms, there’s chatting and even laughter at times, but it all seem so, so far away and the lights seem to have dimmed some more too.

“Pfftt… he went away with that girl, didn’t he? Fuck…” the ginger mutters, dropping back on the pillow.

“You were here with someone?”

Right, _that_ didn’t occur to him – that the shrimp wasn’t alone, that he _isn’t_ alone in general… Because why would he be? He’s quite…well, he’s attractive. Wakatoshi tries to fight off the next word that comes to his mind, _fuckable_ , and fails lamentably.

_‘Art students fuck around a lot and smoke weed’. No, this is bullshit, fucking stop it now!_

“My roommate too, we were supposed to go back to the dorms together. Thing is I don’t think I can-… And I’m so… tired…”

Ushijima bites his lip uncertain, dull gaze trailing over the other’s petite frame. “Well, it’s kind of late so maybe I could take you-” But before he can finish his phrase, he notices that Hinata is already fast asleep.

* * *

 

At least, that’s as far as he can remember now, as he lies in his own bed, still wearing the clothes from the previous night, minus the jacket. They’re crumpled and stick uncomfortably to his skin, adding to the slight nausea he can feel stirring at the slightest movement.  It’s already half past nine, but his roommate isn’t back yet.

He doesn’t remember getting back here at all. Most likely he left without paying his bill either, because he-…

Right, and then there’s the _other problem_ , still peacefully asleep next to him, wrapped comfortably in Wakatoshi’s jacket. And this is a very serious problem, because he basically _kidnapped_ the Karasuno shrimp.

 


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone! Looks like I managed to delay this chapter too, what else is new, I am a fantastic procrastinator after all… I love this story so much, but for some reason 'writing it down' is kinda hard. I am planning to complicate the plot far past the initial idea and add more characters to it, just so you know. Anyway, time to make some more things happen. Enjoy!

Eventually, he musters the courage to stir and sit up, carefully swinging his legs over the edge of the bed. Dizziness clouds his vision briefly with the motion and his hands shake a bit. Right, this was a very bad idea. Behind him there’s light stirring, accompanied by something like a soft groan and Wakatoshi flinches, his panic growing. Until now he was always careful to keep awkwardness to a minimum when it came to his flings – which of course included avoiding waking up next to someone – and this isn’t even a fling! It’s something pretty much indescribable and for which he’s entirely responsible.

Taking a deep breath, the brunet turns slowly and reaches out, uncertain, the fingers aimed for the younger boy’s shoulder accidentally brushing soft bangs and along the side of Shoyou’s face.

“Hey…”

His own voice is coarse and foreign-sounding as he resists the impulse to lean closer and examine the pale, golden freckles dusting the bridge of the shrimp’s nose. In his sleep, Hinata looks even younger than his usual childish appearance; it’s as if he hasn’t aged at all since _that day_ , but… 

 _“I had an accident about two years ago and I don’t… uh… don’t remember anything from before”. That means… it was not so long_ afterwards _. Did he even make it to nationals?_

It’s funny that he didn’t think about it then, didn’t realize it when Hinata first told him, probably because the whole thing took him by surprise, but now he’s finally processing it, adding to the mixed feelings, to-… The other’s eyes flutter open lazily for a brief moment, bright light causing them to shut again with a grimace, but not two seconds later Hinata jerks upright, eyes widening more and more as he glances baffled around the unfamiliar room.

“How do you feel?” Ushijima is surprised at how clear these words come, how natural. Maybe life doesn’t hate him so much after all.     

“Uh... what?” the redhead mumbles, looking anywhere but at him as he struggles to both disentangle himself from Wakatoshi’s jacket and quickly put some distance between them. He looks mortified to say the least and no wonder. The older student hopes with all his heart that he won’t throw a tantrum or something.

“Last night you weren’t feeling well, and then you fell asleep... I didn’t know what to do, your roommate was gone, so I brought you here...” _At least_ _I think that’s what happened._ Still, he thinks he’s managed to phrase it quite rationally, it’s a decent explanation, albeit kind of vague. It’s also a fucking lie, because he could have tried to wake the other up and help him get to _his_ dorm instead. How the fuck _did_ this happen anyway? Did he carry the other in his arms bridal style all the way back here? And what if someone saw him?! Fuck.

“God, I- I’m so sorry... What you must think of me now...” Shoyou nearly whispers, still avoiding the brunet’s gaze and half-tumbling out of bed. “I don’t do stuff like that...”

“Stuff like what?” Wakatoshi asks, not as much interested as incredibly relieved that nothing dramatic happened for now.

“I mean I know nearly everybody does it, but I... Wake up in other people’s room, I mean.”

There’s something prudishly vague about the way Hinata says it and a surprising rush of color in his cheeks, but more than that he looks genuinely upset, even if he doesn’t make a fuss, and it makes Wakatoshi’s stomach cringe with guilt. Also, what does this mean? That the shrimp doesn’t do one night stands? It seems to have been implied that way… Or worse, maybe he’s in a relationship and this mishap will get him in trouble with that person?

“Look, everything is my fault. Nothing inappropriate happened, but last night I got really dizzy, I’ve never tried that before and I don’t even-…,” _‘Inappropriate’?_ The image of Tendou Satori rolling on the floor laughing at this over-formal choice of words flashes through his mind. “I’m really sorry for scaring you like this. I just… don’t know what I was thinking.” he confesses with a sigh, standing and bowing his head.

“Ah, no, no, y-you just wanted to help! If only I wasn’t so-…” Shoyou pauses, rubbing the back of his neck. “Um… where… where are my shoes?”

Ushijima doesn’t even know where his own shoes are currently, but dives instantly to look around and under the bed, grateful for the distraction. Right, focus on practical things, it’s much better. Besides, it’s obvious that the shrimp only wants to get out of here as soon as possible - Wakatoshi doesn’t blame him and also doesn’t want to think how bad he fucked this up – even worse than before - and blew any chance he may have had. Thankfully, he quickly finds a pair of small sneakers with white-and-pink stripes and holds them up.  They look a lot like volleyball shoes, making him wince for a moment, but they’re just regular trainers.

And then Hinata says shyly: “Uh, those are not mine.”

_Oh. Fuck._

“But if they fit… maybe I could borrow them? Um… I mean i-if you think your girlfriend doesn’t mind…”

But the brunet sits back on the edge of the bed, burying his face in his hands. This is dreadful. _Girlfriend?_ Does Hinata think he has a _girlfriend_ now? The shoes are pink though… they probably _are_ a girl’s shoes, so he does have a point. Fuck. Coach Washijou was right – he only allowed himself to slip once and everything went to shit on a spectacular scale.

“I don’t have a girlfriend,” he grumbles between his fingers. “I must’ve took them because I thought they were yours, but it looks like I actually stole someone else’s shoes. And I don’t think I paid the bill either…”

“It’s okay, don’t worry, I’ll pay, uh… next time,” the redhead says quickly, running a hand through his messy hair. “People do that sometimes – but they don’t mind as long as you come back to pay later - and also they have a room filled with misplaced belongings, so I’ll just take the shoes back afterwards.”

Small hands pick up the trainers and Ushijima finally looks up to see Shoyou examining them briefly. At least, he doesn’t seem so disturbed by the rest of his misdeeds (he can’t tell if that’s good or bad, though). And – thank God – the tiny white-and-pink shoes happen to fit him too.

“Again, I’m really sorry… At least, would you let me buy you some coffee?”

* * *

 

Since it’s a Saturday, the nearby cafeteria still serves breakfast despite the relatively late hour and as soon as the welcoming scent of bacon and eggs meets his nose Wakatoshi is faced with another dilemma: should he offer to buy his ‘guest’ a full breakfast instead of just coffee or is that too much? Goodness, what to do?! At least the redhead accepted his invitation, but that doesn’t mean... well it doesn’t mean anything. And as usual, whether he thinks things too much or too little, the social ice he walks on is equally thin. Noticing the few curious and even interested stares _Chibi-chan_ happens to attract as he walks beside him – even if his hair is a complete mess and he’s wearing a nondescript, loose black t-shirt over his cotton track pants (basically looking like he just rolled out of bed) – doesn’t help either. Also, now that they’re walking side by side, he’s again struck by how much shorter than him Hinata is and overall _smaller_ , delicate even and for some unfathomable reason now that they’re no longer playing volleyball, his own size feels like a disadvantage.  

“Are you hungry?” the brunet asks as casually as he can muster, doing his best to ignore the attention the other seems oblivious to.           

“Nah, just coffee’s fine. I’ve got a bit of a headache anyway,” Shoyou confesses with a grimace.

Ushijima leads him to a table for two near the window – where spring sunlight pours in - and they sit down. Somehow, he’d expected a far more awkward vibe to be between them, yet it isn’t. Does Hinata really not think he’s a creep, even after what happened the night before? _No, because he doesn’t remember._ Because he probably assumes Wakatoshi is just a friendly guy who only, genuinely wanted to help. Well, that’s not entirely wrong actually – he did want to help – but he also wanted _something else_ , something he’s still unclear about, and he shamelessly took the opportunity. To do nothing, as it turned out, except embarrass himself big time. _And steal someone’s shoes._

“I should never have let my roommate drag me into this,” the brunet says once they’re settled and a waitress takes their orders. “It wasn’t even as… _interesting_ as he said it would be. I’m not a smoker anyway and it was just weird.”

“It’s not that bad, you only did it once,” _Chibi-chan_ says stifling a yawn as he rests his elbows on the table. It’s a small table, so they’re quite close now and it’s making Wakatoshi slightly nervous. “And if you didn’t like it, you won’t be doing it again.”

“Yeah… I don’t even have an excuse either.”

The ginger’s eyebrow arches a bit. “An excuse?”

And there it is, he fucked it again. He brought up an unpleasant subject for lack of better things to say. _Great._ And now he must try to fix it somehow.

“Uh, I mean, people have all sorts of reasons. Some are just stressed with school and stuff and need to unwind. Others are heartbroken. ( _where the hell did that come from?!_ ) And my roommate’s boyfriend for example is an art student, like you, and he says he smokes to be inspired.”

At that, Shoyou bursts into laughter, pulling back and leaning against the backrest. “ _’To be inspired’_ , that’s some catchy bullshit,” he states. “But well, there’s this widespread belief that artists need to be eccentric and also, more or less self-destructive. Like, beauty comes from suffering, you have to be unhappy to do anything worthwhile and all that theory. It all sounds very romantic, I guess.”

“And it’s not true?”

“I don’t know, maybe for truly great artists it is, but those are very few. However, the rest of us doodlers need to look interesting as well, so there you have it.” He chuckles softly, and the curving of his lips is lovely.   

“From what I’ve seen you’re clearly not a doodler,” Wakatoshi states, a little too seriously, because giving someone compliments is not exactly his specialty. Usually, he seeks neither to flatter nor to offend, just states his opinion neutrally, but more often than not the reaction to that is either outright anger or silent, reproachful hurt or disappointment.

Luckily it’s not the case this time – the ginger only shrugs, the faint smile still lingering on his lips as the waitress comes back with their order. He takes a small sip of the steaming cup, leaving the sugar on the side untouched.

“Yeah, I guess I’m doing okay, considering how much less experience and practice I’ve had compared to my colleagues. I mean, sure I’m working hard now too, but it’s been mostly luck, that I found something I could do.”

“Oh?” _He found something?_ Could it be that Hinata didn’t have a plan B either? That this isn’t what he’d always wanted to do? Ushijima remembers that wild spark in the kid’s eyes as if it were yesterday, he was clearly so passionate about volleyball, determined to beat all the odds and ridiculously confident about it too. “You mean… this wasn’t your dream or anything?”

“I don’t remember if I had any particular dreams,” Shoyou says with an almost inconspicuous sigh. “Dream is a big word anyway. But my former teammates from high-school told me that I was only interested in sports and hoped for a sports scholarship afterwards. Karasuno is a regular high-school anyway, not an art school. But yeah, I guess taking a bet on sports is a risky business, as it turns out your body can very easily crap out and then what?”

Wakatoshi blinks – that’s something he never _really_ considered when planning to go pro. Sure, in theory he was aware something bad could happen – injuries are frequent in any sport – but he just never thought it might happen to him. And now he can’t help suspecting that Oikawa only said that his precious interior design major is ‘what he always wanted to do’ just to rub salt in his wound, when the truth is that he fucked up his knee and was forced to reorient as well. Indeed, Wakatoshi wouldn’t put it past him. 

“I guess you’re right. Actually, I wanted to become a professional volleyball player, but, um…” How does he say that without humiliating himself? Why did he say it to begin with?! Fuck. “I… well, when I was in my third year of high-school I started considering other options. Like, to do something with more opportunities for my future, considering I had the grades for it, and so I ended up choosing business school.”

What a fucking lie – Ushijima himself is amazed he can utter it with such ease. When did he become such a proficient liar? Right, it started quite a while ago and the circumstances only forced him to get better at it.

“Wow, I mean that’s a pretty big shift. And business school is hard, isn’t it?”

There’s sincere awe in Shoyou’s eyes as he says the words, but moreover there’s something so _pure_ and surprisingly honest in everything he says, clearly he doesn’t feel like he has to hide anything and Wakatoshi envies him for it, so much. Envy and shame at his own lies, but in the same time he has no choice but to keep lying.

The brunet clears his throat – it is getting hard, but he’ll pull through. He always pulls through. “Eh, it’s not so hard,” he finally replies with a shrug, determined to deflect attention from this subject. “But it’s not very exciting either. So, how did you start to draw?” 

 _Chibi-chan_ is not looking at him this time, choosing to focus on the cup he twists between suddenly nervous fingers, smile gone, and he instantly knows he’s done it again. Of course, the question was nothing but casual and harmless, but now he _knows_ it’s something wrong he stumbled upon. Clearly, Wakatoshi is no longer as oblivious to others as he once was, but this new awareness is not necessarily bliss. Maybe ignorance was better.

“Uh, actually my therapist suggested it,” the redhead confesses in a low voice. “So I gave it a try, it worked surprisingly well and then I went and took some courses. My aunt also got me a private tutor afterwards to help me study and catch up so to say, since I didn’t go to an art school like the rest of my colleagues and that’s how I managed to get in here. I told you, I was lucky.”

Ushijima bites his lip, fiddling with his own cup. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know… I mean I suppose it’s not something you want to talk about.”

“No, no, it’s okay. People ask all the time, even detailed stuff about my accident, so I’m used to it. It’s been a while anyway, even if… Well, speaking of excuses, I don’t really have an excuse either to go to _that place_. It’s true that my painkillers don’t work, but normally I should go to the doctor instead of ‘medicating’ this way. But I just don’t want to, I really hate hospitals after how much time I spent there.”

Hinata looks up, finally mustering a small, bitter smile. “But like I said, I guess I was lucky after all.”

 

 

 


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I seriously last updated this in May… wow. Damn it. Anyway, I finally managed to put together a plan for the chapters, so hopefully things will go more smoothly from now on. That being said, enjoy the new chap!

 

The following few days Wakatoshi is constantly haunted by the things the Karasuno’s former number ten told him that morning. It’s an unsettling feeling which throws him off balance, turning everything else around him into a grey blur and denying him concentration on the usual tasks.

_“Normally it would have been practice day, but my Mom wanted us to go on a trip, she’d promised Natsu. Uh… my little sister, I mean. We didn’t have a car, so a neighbour offered to take us. We had the accident on the way back, a truck crashed straight into us. My little sister and I were lucky to survive, because we were on the back seats, but my Mom and the driver were killed on the spot.”_

This is so bad that his stomach cringes painfully every time he replays the redhead’s words in his mind, and they keep coming back. It never occurred to him, although maybe it should have. At that time, Shoyou was too young to have been driving himself, so it figured that someone else must have been involved too. Someone from his family. That’s what Oikawa meant when he said that losing his memory was the least sad thing that happened to him.

“ _It’s really weird…I mean I remember my Mom; I know that she’s Mom just like I know that Natsu is my sister, but I don’t remember anything of our lives, like… moments, things we did together. It’s all gone._ ”

Maybe like this it hurts less and now, two years later Hinata _seems_ okay, just like his body _looks_ okay but it isn’t. The damage is there, even if Shoyou speaks of it so openly, as if it’s no big deal…. But it is, he suffers but he’s fighting, choosing to _defy_ his misfortune. But there’s also something deeply disturbing about this confession, it’s not only painful but very _private_ too, Wakatoshi feels like he doesn’t deserve such trust, and he can barely begin to comprehend the struggle the other has gone through. It makes him feel bad, guilty even and above all it makes his own issues look almost trivial in comparison. And so, he has all the more reasons to keep them carefully hidden.

And he wants to see the ginger again, as in _ask him out_.

Now he’s clarified at least about this, despite being rather clueless on how to go about it. And it’s not the drama in itself – Ushijima is not the type to gravitate towards drama, quite on the contrary – but Hinata is genuinely attractive. Maybe it’s because they no longer play volleyball, maybe it’s because the other has grown up a lot since those days, he’s no longer a crazy kid with a fiery temper, ridiculously driven to take on the whole world despite being a complete mess. Not that Wakatoshi really thinks that that temper has truly mellowed just because he wasn’t faced with it recently, he’s sure that the shrimp is still ready for fierce battles, even if he’d probably pick them more wisely now. He knows a thing or two about redheads, after all.

Speaking of, Tendou Satori has remained one of his few close friends to this day and even if the former middle blocker is currently doing a psychology major at another university, they still meet almost every other weekend. They talk about everything and anything – mostly Tendou talks and Wakatoshi listens, because usually nothing really happens in his life that he feels like talking about.

On the following weekend he calls Tendou and they decide go out for a late lunch in town, as usual. This helps lighten his mood somewhat and worries him in the same time – the other will probably figure out that something is amiss.

He _should_ talk to his friend about this sudden predicament he’s in – Tendou wouldn’t think anything of it, wouldn’t judge him, after all they’re not in high-school anymore and the redhead of all people surely wouldn’t feel betrayed that he thinks of dating the Karasuno shrimp – but he doesn’t. Something gets in the way, so he just sits there pretending to enjoy fusion cuisine while he listens to Satori talking excitedly about the new exchange student in his year – a cute French girl he’s started seeing after they played basketball together and had a mother of a fight on the court.

“Basketball is different, you know, it’s a contact sport and girls are more aggressive than you think,” Tendou says, laughing. “She fouled me at least three times… anyway I was more on my ass than I was on my feet during that game.”

Wakatoshi takes a sip of his mineral water. His friend has taken to drinking red wine, but he refuses to indulge. “But it sounds like you enjoyed it,” he observes. “You’re really into her, don’t you?”

“Mmmm… there’s a problem though – most of the time I can’t read her. And for me that’s like groping in the dark.”

“But when you’re dating someone… I mean it’s not like they’re your opponent. Why would you want to have the upper hand in this?”

Tendou snorts, not really surprised by the question, although Ushijima realizes it was stupid the moment he asked it. It only came out this way because he has his own situation on his mind, but well, since he doesn’t do actual relationships – or hasn’t until now at any rate – maybe his ignorance is understandable.

“I’m not a go-with-the-flow kind of person, if I can’t read a situation then I don’t know what to do. Or not do, for that matter. And I don’t want to fuck this up.”

He doesn’t want to fuck this up either. Luckily, Tendou is caught up in his own problems and doesn’t seem to pick up his weird vibe this time, but then he does it, spilling the beans.

“I want to ask someone out too.”

The words slip out of his mouth before he can do anything to stop them and the brunet sighs, disappointed at himself. He used to be perfectly collected at all times, when did all that go down the drain and he became such a mess? His friend studies him curiously for a moment, as if trying to piece together some unseen puzzle.

“Oh. Ask them then.”

Only it’s not that simple, there are some complications he can’t explain, not to Tendou.

“It’s not-… Not like when you go to a party, people get drunk and then you randomly pick someone just to blow off some steam. I met this guy when I was out with my roommate and his boyfriend and we talked a couple of times, we’re like… friends I guess. But I don’t know if he’s single, or if even he swings that way, this topic never came up, so I’m afraid that if I ask him out, I’ll just ruin everything and he won’t even want to see me again.” That pretty much sums it, except for the most important detail.

The Guess Monster continues to observe him, leaning forward on his elbows, chin resting in the heels of his palms. “Wow, that’s really out of character,” he says. “I’ve never seen you hesitate with anything before.”

His friend has a point – he _has_ been out of character as of late, ever since he saw the shrimp again at the gym, this has been one challenge he couldn’t take up in stride, like he did all other challenges in his life, even business school. He doesn’t know why and this thing in itself is weird and concerning.

“I’m not used to fuck-ups, that’s all and it’s like you said – like groping in the dark. And I never had this problem before, but… I don’t know, this guy seems more sensitive and he’s younger too, a first-year.” He pauses, fiddling with his napkin. “He’s an art student.”

“Oh my Lord, just what _you_ need!” the redhead laughs. “Ask him, I think you’re going to be okay.”

* * *

 

It’s funny, because Ushijima never thought of anything as hard before, but this is hard. Almost so that he’s considering giving up, despite of what he wants, but now that he made the mistake of telling his friend there’s no backing down from it – if he does, Tendou will never let him hear the end of it and if he directly comes up with a lie that he was refused without even having actually tried, the Guess Monster will see right through it and it’s going to be even worse.  He can successfully lie to other people, but not Tendou.

There’s no choice but to go back to the cafe, at around the same hour as the first time.

As he does so, Wakatoshi refuses to think of the side complications – namely meeting Oikawa again and arousing his suspicion. This is none of the bastard’s business anyway. He also tells himself, ignoring the bitter prospect of failure, that it won’t matter if the shrimp refuses him, it will be a sign that this wasn’t meant to happen.

The place is more crowded this time – students having a quick snack after or between classes, mostly girls – the lively chatter drowning the sound of his footsteps as Ushijima walks straight to the counter, looking around for Shoyou. The petite ginger is nowhere in sight for now, but another boy comes to take his order and when the brunet asks, he tells him that Hinata’s shift won’t start for another half an hour.

Damn it, just what he needed, time to let the pressure build.

He orders a regular black coffee with no sugar, like he’s seen the shrimp drinking it. It’s probably much too bitter for his taste, but it feels like taking a step forward, closer to Shoyou.

At some point, as Wakatoshi sits there perched uncomfortably on a bar stool, the former Seijoh captain comes from the back and walks past him with an indifferent, brief nod, doing a splendid job at concealing his unpleasant surprise as he heads for a side booth where several girls are huddled together.  Ushijima doesn’t need to turn and look to see how much attention Oikawa is getting. Suddenly, he feels surrounded by a bad vibe.

Time passes painfully slow as he fiddles with his phone, scrolling absently through his Instagram feed. Surely, the Seijoh bastard must wonder what he’s doing here. He’s so caught up in his thoughts that when the redhead finally shows up, Wakatoshi nearly flinches in surprise.

“Hey!” Shoyou’s smile is like a ray of sun breaking the bad spell. “You were looking for me?”

“Yeah... I wanted to talk to you.” He doesn’t have a plan. He didn’t think he’d need one, and especially didn’t think his mind would go blank like this. “Uh... I thought I’d try coffee like you drink it, without sugar. I know it’s healthier this way, but it’s very bitter.”

_And this is very stupid. God, find something to say that actually makes sense!_

“I know.” _Chibi-chan’s_ smile doesn’t waver, even if there’s a hint of uncertainty now in it. Clearly he doesn’t understand. “But it’s more like an acquired taste. I don’t drink coffee that often anyway.”

_Don’t ask him out for coffee then_

“What do you like then?” Ushijima tries to sound casual, relaxed, tries to breathe through the stiffness in his chest. “I mean, really-”

But then Oikawa comes back and passes by them, throwing the brunet a piercing glance. He can’t tell if it’s a glare or a warning, but it’s ominous at any rate.

“Tooru really doesn’t like you,” Hinata says unexpectedly and he flinches.

This is bad. They talked about him. They talked and Oikawa told him a load of crap. Fuck. To his surprise though, the shrimp seems amused by this.

“He says it was a volleyball thing, and that you were a total troll back then. Also, that there was this guy in your team who looked like an evil goblin and together you were a pain in everyone’s ass. ”

“I wasn’t a troll.”

He really wasn’t, Ushijima wouldn’t waste his time with such silly stuff and he wasn’t the type anyway. He spoke his mind openly and this bothered people, but now that he thinks of it, in the general context of Tendou’s trolling (because Satori _was_ a troll and the brunet suspects he still is upon occasion) probably everything looked more hostile than intended.

“I only did what I had to do for my team to win, I played the best I could and... Oikawa never took it too well, which is understandable. I guess my friend was a bit of a troll though, he liked teasing our opponents on court and pissing them off.”

The ginger doesn’t say anything and he takes a nervous sip of his coffee, the bitter taste making everything worse. Fuck. The bastard surely mentioned the inter-high final and now Shoyou is testing him. This was a bad idea, a _fucking stupid idea_ which will only result in humiliation! He should have never come on the turf of his former adversaries.

“You’re so serious about this,” Shoyou says eventually, chuckling softly. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean anything by it. I just thought it’s funny.”

Maybe he doesn’t know after all, there’s no hidden intent in his words, his smile is pure. Maybe the Seijoh bastard is still too self-absorbed to talk about anything else but himself and never thought of mentioning the inter-high final simply because it doesn’t concern him directly. Wakatoshi allows himself to relax a bit, even muster a small smile in turn.

“We were all very serious about this back then... But you’re right, I guess it _is_ funny.”

On the other side of the counter, the shrimp leans forward on his elbows. “Pork buns,” he says, chewing on his bottom lip.

“What?”

“You asked what I really like. I really like pork buns.”

_Pork buns. It makes sense._

“Oh.” Wakatoshi stares into his coffee cup, as if suddenly captivated by the dark liquid left on the bottom. He can’t do this, not when he was so close to disaster. No, no, he can. He can. He can do anything. “Would you like to go out and get some pork buns then, sometime?”

He looks up, trying not to swallow visibly, and sees the ginger’s eyes widening in obvious surprise. Small teeth dig into his bottom lip again and his nervousness is almost palpable now.

“...yeah. I-I’d like that.”  


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone! Looks like I managed to come up with a new chapter and this time get ready for some fluff and quality time *cough*. Enjoy!

 

“Like that, yeah. Hold still, please.”

Wakatoshi takes a deep breath, shifting a bit before he settles in the desk chair, not really knowing what to do with his hands – they are not used to simply resting idly in his lap. He didn’t think this would make him so tense, but now - as the redhead purposely stares at him – the gaze of those large, doe-like brown eyes tinted gold carefully taking in every detail of his face is a little intimidating.

“ _You_ wanted this,” Hinata reminds him seriously, resting against the headboard of his small bed, sketch pad propped on his lifted knees. “I know it’s not easy to pose, but it helps if you think of something else instead of focusing on your body and on staying still. Or you can talk about something if you want, and then stillness will come naturally.”

The room is hot despite the early evening, because by now summer is in full blast and Shoyou’s dorm doesn’t have air conditioning, but since the brunet’s roommate also decided to take some optional summer classes, here is the only place where they can be completely alone together, unhindered.  He’s not particularly happy about the extra work, even if he could have skipped it, but Wakatoshi preferred to stay in the campus with Shoyou – who must take additional classes - rather than spend the summer back home with his mother and grandfather. This decision actually made them happy too, admiring his supposed dedication.

“Think of something… o- kay…”

Ushijima stares absently at the tiny pencil balanced lazily between the ginger’s fingers, trying to ignore the (probably irrational) fear that if the younger boy looks at him too intensely, he might suddenly _remember_. And then, everything is going to be over in an instant, which would be dreadful, considering the painfully slow burn of their relationship so far, considering his own investment and struggle to keep himself in check, to take things slowly. Because he knows that Shoyou is fragile, even if he occasionally turns from a delicate fairy into a voracious shrimp (especially when it comes to pork buns). But he feels good with _Chibi-chan_ , being around the other boy makes him _happy_ , unexpectedly so and in a quite unfamiliar way.

Then Shoyou starts to work, bringing pencil to paper with gentle strokes which seem almost hesitant at first, eyes trailing back and forth from his drawing to his model, completely absorbed. He looks at Ushijima as if every piece, every detail of him is infinitely precious, and that dedicated concentration is strangely arousing.   

It took them two months to kiss for the first time, but Wakatoshi thinks it was worth the wait.

Hinata may have been a tad inexperienced, but not shy and clearly not sharing his own fear of fucking up. That is most likely because _Chibi-chan_ hadn’t kissed countless people before without it meaning absolutely anything, because for him making it feel genuine wasn’t a struggle. In contrast to such purity, Ushijima could only feel like sinking further into the murk of his own lies.

Speaking of, he still hasn’t told Tendou the truth about dating the former Karasuno number ten. Of course, he has shared _some things_ with his friend, mostly how this new relationship makes him feel, even the completely unfamiliar insecurities he’s been fighting at every step, but not his boyfriend’s name or any kind of detailed physical description. And strange enough, Tendou never asked to see a picture of this mysterious person.

“Ah… I wanted to ask you,” the brunet begins after a while, tired of the unsettling silence and getting a sudden idea. “Do you think you’ll ever exhibit your works here on campus?” 

Shoyou looks up questioningly. “Um… I don’t know? I think they only display works of older students, but not even that happens very often here anyway. Why?”

“I was just thinking. You will tell me if my face is ever to be displayed for public view, right?”

Truth be told, Wakatoshi doesn’t really know how he’d feel about that. Probably flattered, as he was the first time he saw that Shoyou had been drawing him back at the gym, during his poor excuse of a volleyball game.

“Sure, so that you can wear a bag on your head.”

“Wha- I wouldn’t do that!”

“You would,” the shrimp says seriously, even if the corners of his mouth twitch visibly.

“No, I wouldn’t!” Wakatoshi retorts, scowling. “But you wouldn’t put up an embarrassing portrait of me, would you?”

He’s pretty sure his boyfriend wouldn’t do that though, he’s not some anon with a vengeance, like the other person he’s heard of and gave him the idea in the first place.

Shoyou’s eyebrow is raised slightly and he pokes the inside of his cheek with his tongue. “I’m an artist,” he says eventually, dead serious. “Art is never embarrassing. It just _is_.” Saying that, he resumes his work, fingers tense with concentration around the pencil. “Also, I don’t think they allow nudes or anything like that anyway,” he adds like an afterthought, making his model flinch.

Not that he actually saw Ushijima’s naked body yet.

Still, the thought – and the _teasing_ , because he can feel teasing in these supposedly casual words – make something stir inside and a shiver run down his spine, and Wakatoshi tugs helplessly at the collar of his t-shirt, forgetting that he’s supposed to stay still. The petite redhead is wearing only a loose, white undershirt and baby blue cotton shorts and only now he begins to wonder if that was on purpose and not just for comfort’s sake. Most likely though, that’s only in his head. The outfit has absolutely nothing enticing in itself, it’s just something a kid would wear around the house and even outside during the summer, even if on Hinata’s thin, delicate body it looks surprisingly sensual. The shrimp never _tries_ to impress, his short spiky hair is always just as messy as it was when Ushijima first laid eyes on him, three years before, and his clothes are nondescript - a bit on the cheap side too since his finances aren’t exactly great – yet he manages to do so both effortlessly and obliviously and eyes are on him more often than not, much to his boyfriend’s discomfort.

To break the tension he’s feeling, the brunet clears his throat curtly, deciding to betray Tendou’s trust and tell his boyfriend what he promised not to tell anyone, if only for the sake of directing the conversation elsewhere for now.

“No, but you could draw or paint me in a stupid costume, for example,” he offers.

 _Chibi-chan_ chuckles openly now. “Huh… You’re really concerned about this, aren’t you?”

“Something like this happened to a friend of mine recently – you know, the one Oikawa referred to as an evil goblin,” Ushijima says quickly. “He goes to another university here in the city and they had a painting exhibition with works done by the art students there. An anonymous exhibition, which is why I think this happened in the first place. He was dragged there by his girlfriend in a weekend and, lo and behold, he was faced with a rather striking piece of _art_.”

Shoyou sketches away, pausing from time to time to smudge with his fingertips, and the former Shiratorizawa captain can’t but keep his eyes on those tiny, delicate fingers, even if the black mess is a tad unsettling for someone as disciplined as him.

“… and someone had painted him in a stupid costume?” the shrimp suggests when the other falls silent and Ushijima is pulled from his contemplation.

“Uh… well. It’s not-… It was more offensive than anything. Someone had painted him wearing our school’s volleyball team uniform, topped with a… a _corset_.”

The ginger pauses and blinks, no doubt trying to come up with a mental image of that. “Ah, shit, I guess that’s nasty! But he could have asked for the painting to be taken down, no?”

“Well, at first I said that too. But it wasn’t indecent in any way – the corset was on top of the regular jersey and shorts, it was just an addition to the uniform. And his name doesn’t show anywhere and neither is the name of our school, so… it isn’t that recognizable, unless someone is a volleyball fan and has watched the competitions from a few years ago. So technically it’s just… art that _is,_ as you put it.” Wakatoshi takes a deep breath, seeking to put more eloquence into his words. “But it’s _disturbing_ , because our uniform was white, purple and black and the corset was black with matching purple ribbons and a strip of purple lace on the front, and so it looks like it belongs there, like it’s _a part_ of the uniform.”

He knows he shouldn’t do this, but Shoyou still looks confused, so Ushijima pulls out his phone and shows him the picture Tendou sent him.

“Oh,” the ginger says, eyes widening a bit, and for the briefest moment Wakatoshi is frightened that he might have recognized Tendou, after all the Guess Monster’s appearance stands out. “Huh… it… I don’t know but… um… I guess it looks good, in a way. And it suits him – the colors, the silk, everything.” His eyes flicker upwards, meeting his boyfriend’s shocked gaze. “Ah, but I don’t think it would suit _you_! The colors yes, but the corset definitely no!” he adds quickly, in a low voice.

“That’s what his girlfriend said too. She liked it,” the brunet grumbles in turn.

“What is wrong with you people?!”

Shoyou bites his lip, then bursts into laughter, stretching his legs.

“It’s not funny…” Ushijima keeps grumbling, even if his scowl is quick to melt. “Why is this taking so long anyway? Let me see what you’re doodling there.”

“No! It’s not ready!” the shrimp squeaks, but Wakatoshi leaves his seat, lunging forward across the bed to grab at him. The redhead outstretches his hand, keeping the sketch pad out of his reach, but ends up dropping it on the floor when his boyfriend’s fingers attack his stomach and he laughs even harder, trying to wrestle Ushijima off him. But the other is much stronger, of course, so eventually he halts off his boyfriend’s tickling with a forceful kiss to the tip of his nose.

Wakatoshi stops, still pinning _Chibi-chan’s_ wrists to the mattress, staring into Shoyou’s wide open eyes. They’re the perfect color of darkened honey, large and innocent, yet shining with lust now. Teasingly slow, he lowers his head, brushing their lips together before giving in to a full, deep kiss. His hands free the younger’s wrists to travel down over his bare shoulders, arms and sides, eventually slipping under the thin cotton of Shoyou’s undershirt as his lips leave the other’s mouth and descend on the side of his neck.

“Ushi…”

The brunet freezes, fingers halting their exploration, and he cranes his neck up, anxiously looking for any sign of discomfort on his boyfriend’s face. The bed is soft enough, but he can’t forget that Hinata is injured, also they’ve never done this before, so he could simply not be ready to take things further yet.

But Shoyou’s eyes are closed, lips parted slightly, and his body arches upwards to meet his. “Please… don’t stop.”

“…are you sure?”

In reply, the shrimp’s hands tug at his shirt, managing after a bit of struggle to pull it over his head. Their movements are resumed, clothes wrestled out of and thrown on the floor as they grind their hips against one another. ‘Drawer’ Hinata murmurs between pants, briefly pointing to the nightstand. Eventually, Wakatoshi sits up, taking in the nude beauty sprawled out in front of him, and proceeds careful, gentle, again uncharacteristically so. With Shoyou he feels none of the aggressiveness with which he would, for example, shove Oikawa face-first into the pillows and fuck him senseless. 

Afterwards, he simply takes his time resting on top of Hinata, cheek pressed onto the ginger’s softly panting chest, the spent sweat and overall stickiness between their bodies making it feel like they’re glued together. Later on, they’ll have to drag themselves out of the bed to take a shower, but for now it just feels… peacefully good.

“Are you okay?”

The ginger offers a non-committal ‘mmm’, hands resting lazily on Wakatoshi’s shoulder and in his hair and Ushijima moves a hand in turn to stroke at his petite lover’s hipbone and down one slender thigh that’s still pressed into his side, enjoying the feel of smooth, warm skin under his fingers.

“Ushi… what’s number ten?” the shrimp mutters sleepily, playing with a random strand of his boyfriend’s hair.

“Huh…?”

“You said, I think… ‘right there, number ten’.”

 _Fuck. FUCK._ He said that _out loud_?! But the sight of Hinata lying on his back, flushed and moaning helplessly had been just too much, too good, too damn satisfying. And with the tiniest, vaguest flavor of hate sex. He bites his lip, feeling a pang of guilt.

“I-It’s something… uh…” He can’t come up with any viable lie just now. “…it’s something about volleyball,” Ushijima mumbles, clearing his throat awkwardly.

The redhead chuckles lowly. “Pfffft… like a kink?”

“Yeah.”

* * *

 

Okay, and if you want to see that outrageous painting of Satori, here it is:

<https://www.deviantart.com/emalex600/art/Satori-796671086>


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! So year, another million years later I managed to update. But brace yourselves, because it's time to turn up the heat. And to tell you the truth I was a bit reluctant to 'villain-ize' any Haikyuu characters until now, but then I read a fic where Kuroo was really evil and now my scruples are gone :))) But no, the bad guy is not Kuroo this time (and not just because I am obsessed with cats).

“You look very happy these days,” Tendou says, eyebrows raised slightly as he leans back in his seat, glass in hand.

His friend blinks, unsure what to make of this observation. “Uh… yeah? Is it so weird? I’ve been happy before.”

“Not like this though. And I mean… you actually _stayed here_ for the whole summer, just to be with your little boyfriend. That’s something, don’t you think?”

Well, it is, actually. And he _is_ happy - Wakatoshi thinks - happier than he expected, and certainly happier than he thought he could ever be considering the circumstances of his college life and envisaged future career. Maybe he will manage to forget the past, eventually, he’ll let it all go and just be happy from now on. Okay, maybe his mother and grandfather will not be very pleased with his choice in relationships, but he won’t worry about it just yet and he thinks he’s done enough of a compromise for them already, sacrificed enough.

“So, when am I going to finally meet this very special person?” the redhead asks next, making Ushijima flinch in surprise.

 _Fuck._ He was afraid of this, even though he doesn’t know why he’s so afraid. He’s quite sure his former teammate would not have anything against his choice – maybe tease him for it at most – and he could explain the situation and ask Tendou not to mention… well, _anything_ from the past. Still, the idea makes him uncomfortable.

“Well, _you_ don’t say anything about me meeting _your_ girlfriend, and you sound pretty serious about the two of you,” he counters casually. “You’re not keeping me as your dirty little secret, are you?” _Or maybe that shit was better left unstirred…_

The former middle blocker laughs, shaking his head. “Nah, I have no such dirty little secrets with her, don’t worry. I told her about you.” Tendou pauses, biting his bottom lip. “I mean, I told her about seeing you every other weekend and I also told her about… uh… _experimenting_ with guys, you know, before. I may have not necessarily linked the two things, but… Eh, I think I’ve been open enough.”

“Yeah…” Fuck, to think Tendou had the balls to confess something like that to his girlfriend, while he couldn’t even talk about a volleyball game with Shoyou. No, it’s more than that. It wasn’t _just a game_. Fuck, why the hell is everyone else so honest but him?!

“Maybe we can all grab lunch sometime if you want,” his friend says, breaking Ushijima’s anxious train of thought.

“Yeah, but only if you promise not to tease him. You know, before we started dating, Oikawa warned him about me, and you. He told him that I’m a troll and you’re an evil goblin.”

“Well it doesn’t look like he heeded the warning, at least as far as you’re concerned,” Satori points amused, taking a sip of his wine. “Although poor Oikawa was right about you, if you think of it.”

“What do you mean? I never trolled him! I only thought he’d do better at Shiratorizawa, and you know he was better than Shirabu. I know he was pissed because he never managed to beat us, but that’s his problem entirely and also, if anyone was trolling him it was you!”

“No, no, I was only teasing him on the court,” the Guess Monster replies, shaking his finger playfully. “But after every match you’d go after him and tell him to quit Seijoh and come to us – to _you_ – and you kept doing that in front of his boyfriend. Of course it pissed him off, it pissed both of them off.”

Wakatoshi blinks, uncomprehending. All those years… “Oikawa _had a boyfriend?!_ At Seijoh? Why didn’t you tell me?”

Tendou looks at him like he just fell from the moon and landed on his head, before releasing a deep sigh. “Oh, I don’t know, because it was obvious and _everyone_ knew?”

It wasn’t obvious at all, Ushijima thinks, scowling as he fruitlessly tries to remember and figure out who that might have been. But fuck, if that was the case, it might have sounded like he was asking the Seijoh captain to dump not only his team but his boyfriend too, _for him_. What the hell, he really didn’t mean it like that! Not… no, really no.

“Okay, maybe I was a troll,” the brunet admits eventually, shoulders sagging. “But so were you, and so was Oikawa – and he still is by the way– so sorry not sorry. There! But my boyfriend is nothing like that, he’s a… a nice person, you know?”

“Okay, okay, dear God! I promise I won’t tease him.”

* * *

 

But as it soon turns out, Satori’s potential teasing should have been the least of Wakatoshi’s worries.

It starts with a premonition, a bad feeling in his gut when he texts Shoyou during one of his boring classes and uncharacteristically gets no reply for several hours. He doesn’t get bad feelings often, or at least doesn’t pay attention to them, but this time he can’t ignore the sensation. It seems to be growing too as day turns into night and Wakatoshi keeps checking his phone, fingers hovering nervously over the keyboard but not daring to call or write another message. His boyfriend is never so caught up in school or work as to remain silent for this long, so something must have happened.

Something bad, the brunet thinks, around midnight, checking the empty screen one more time before falling into a fitful sleep.

The next morning Ushijima wakes up earlier than usual for his run. Now there is a new message on his screen, sent at 3:25 the previous night. _‘We need to talk.’_   Both the hour and the text itself make him flinch violently after all the tension he’s been in, bringing the very opposite of relief. Wheels turn fruitlessly in his head as Wakatoshi tries to come up with what could _so brusquely_ be wrong with Chibi-Chan, morning run forgotten entirely as he feverishly types a short reply. This time, his boyfriend texts back not half a minute later, asking to see him downstairs.

The same unsettling feeling is etched into his limbs when, half an hour later, the former Shiratorizawa captain walks into the cafeteria next to his dorm building – the same one where he took Shoyou for their first ‘date’ after the disastrous weed night – only to turn into an outright chill upon spotting the ginger sitting slumped at a table in the corner. Hinata’s face is chalky and tired, as if he hasn’t slept at all, and he looks an utter mess from head to toe.

“Shoyou? Baby, what’s wrong?! I came as soon as I…”

The brunet’s voice trails off as the younger finally removes the tips of his fingers from his forehead and looks up, with an almost blank expression. Shoyou swallows silently, taking a deep breath, pale lips drawn into a thin line as he can’t seem to meet the other’s gaze.

“Yesterday, when I was at work, someone texted me,” he says neutrally, such that Ushijima can’t make anything of his tone. His lips twitch, as if he wants to go on, but then his gaze drops again and he picks up his phone and thumbs the screen quickly before holding it up for his boyfriend to see.

_“I think it’s nice of you to make it up to our captain with your legs open, but until you put out for the rest of us as well, we won’t forgive you for that day, little crow :))”_

Wakatoshi stares at the words, refusing to believe that his worst fear has come true. And this is so mean and outright disgusting! His mind has gone blank, words won’t form on his lips, he can’t move at all, can’t even blink away from the unforgiving sight in front of him.

“What the fuck is this, huh?!” Hinata’s voice is no more than a whisper and even as he keeps his eyes on his own hand with the phone his sudden scowl speaks volumes.

_He knows._

He knows, and Ushijima is fucked.

At last, the brunet manages to get his mouth to work, if only barely. “I-I don’t know-”

“Like fuck you don’t know!” the shrimp cuts him off with unexpected brutality, his infamous temper finally surfacing. “Weren’t you the captain of _fucking Shiratorizawa_?! You know, after I got this shit someone showed me a YouTube video of that inter-high prefectural match or whatever…” 

Shoyou pauses, looking up at him and blinking slowly. No emotion shows on his face this time, but his hunched shoulders are tense. “So like… right now are we still playing? _In your head_ , are we still playing  _fucking volleyball_?!” He tries to raise his voice some more, but is choking halfway. “Fuck, I thought you had your shit together, but it seems you’re still stuck into some dumb volleyball match from _fucking high-school_!”

Ushijima blinks too, struck in full by his boyfriend’s words and feeling suddenly out of air. “No! Why would you-”

“Is that why you lied to me, kept this shit from me all this time? Because that day you swore that you’d  _crush_  me?! That’s what he said.”

_Oikawa._

Oikawa must have finally taken this golden opportunity and told him God knows what shit, poisoned Hinata’s mind! Maybe he was the one who sent the message in the first place! A deep, blinding anger takes over his mind and sense of logic and Ushijima can think of nothing else except finding the Seijoh bastard and breaking his neck, such that it takes a while before he notices that Hinata is gone, only his phone has remained behind on the table, the screen now dark.

Hissing a ‘what the fuck?!’between his teeth, Wakatoshi grabs the phone and brings it to life, wasting no more time on the message itself and instead tapping on the sender’s number (whoever the fuck it was didn’t even bother to hide their number!).

It rings emptily several times, but then someone picks up, nearly making him flinch.

 _“What do you want, shrimpy?_ ” they prompt in an openly mocking tone.

Wakatoshi blinks – it doesn’t sound like Oikawa’s voice. Shoyou would know Oikawa’s voice anyway… Maybe it’s that fucking boyfriend of his that Tendou mentioned?!

“WHO THE FUCK IS THIS?!” he growls.

 _“Ah, it’s you, captain…”_ There is a pause at the end of the line, and then- “ _You_ fucking traitor! _To think I would have done anything for you, only to see you give up on your dream and now… seriously?! With that Karasuno bastard?! But don’t worry, I’ll take care of this! You’ll pay for this!”_

The line goes dead before Ushijima can come up with something to say, but the violence of the other’s words has left him speechless anyway, his previous anger having turned to an icy dread. And it can’t be Oikawa’s boyfriend – that much he’s sure of, because that voice was _familiar_ , even if he can’t remember who it belongs to.   

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, any guesses who it could be? And no, I haven't dropped any hints until now.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ha, I updated after another million years... *shakes head in dissapointment*

 

The following hours pass in a helpless daze, being stuck in his classes feeling more suffocating than ever. Wakatoshi keeps pulling Shoyou’s phone out of his pocket absently, going over the accursed message again and again as he wracks his brain trying to figure out what the _actual fuck_ could possibly be going on.

In the meantime, he went through Shoyou’s call log, only to discover that the message’s sender has also called Hinata, shortly after sending the text and the call lasted for about twenty minutes. He can guess what it was about too, and that explains why things got so blown out of proportion, since the text itself, despite its sheer foulness, doesn’t actually say very much.

And there’s more – now he’ll have to go to the café where Shoyou works, if only to deliver the phone his boyfriend has mindlessly left behind, because judging by the morning’s episode he doesn’t think he’ll get the chance to explain anything or even talk to Hinata anytime soon.

_But Oikawa will probably be there._

Good God, this sucks so bad that it twists his gut! To think… _Chibi-Chan_ really trusted him, and this looks like… Wakatoshi doesn’t even know what it looks like exactly, but something extremely fucked-up on his behalf at any rate.

He goes early, when the café is still half-empty, having a premonition as to how bad things will go. Every step is horribly heavy as he makes his way inside and walks up to the counter in the back. To Ushijima’s momentary relief, behind it stands a boy he’s seen before and he’s offered a bright, unsuspecting smile in greeting, which doesn’t falter even when the brunet fidgets awkwardly, explaining in a few vague words how his boyfriend forgot his phone earlier.

Predictably, he’s told that Shoyou called in sick for the day. He doesn’t know if it’s actually true or not, but he didn’t have much hope to begin with. Anyway, until he can clear things out – until he can find this _fucking person_ and confront them, get to the bottom of this shit – there’s hardly anything he can explain to Hinata.

“Is Oikawa in then? Can I have a quick word with him?” Wakatoshi says instead of turning on his heels and leaving once he’s given Shoyou’s phone to the boy. It’s a bad idea, after hearing _that_ voice he knows for sure that the former Seijoh captain has nothing to do with this, but he can’t help it and he has to start somewhere.

The boy nods and disappears in the back through the ‘staff only’ door and Ushijima straightens his posture in anticipation, trying to ignore the tension piled up in his muscles.

A few moments later Oikawa walks out, his eyes instantly finding the brunet and while Wakatoshi can’t quite read the expression on the other’s face, he can feel a hostile vibe behind it.

“ _You_  told Shoyou about the inter-high match, didn’t you?” he asks without thinking and, even as the words leave his lips, realizes with disappointment that he doesn’t really have a plan, didn’t think this through at all and he doesn’t know how to go about things to get to the real issue, as usual.

Tooru blinks slowly and crosses his arms without hurry, as if there’s something he’s trying to figure out.

“Well, it was high time _someone_ did, don’t you think? That it was more than – how did you put it? - a random ‘practice’ match…” he replies eventually and Ushijima fights back a flinch as his lie is thrown at him so brutally that if feels like a slap in the face. “I didn’t want to, you know, since it’s none of my business, but when I found him almost hyperventilating in the restroom and he asked me _, I had to_.” 

Wakatoshi tries to ignore the mental image of his tormented boyfriend, to find something to say, maybe an excuse, but nothing comes out except for a mumbled ‘I didn’t want to-‘ before he’s cut off.

“You really don’t have any limits, do you, Ushiwaka?! There’s just no limit to-…” Oikawa shakes his head and even though his tone is still low, irritation is seeping into his voice clearly now. “You’re always out to get something and there’s no limit to how far you’re willing to go! Now you found Hinata again and you decided you wanted revenge for that stupid match, didn’t you! It wasn’t enough for you that he lost his mother and that he’s a cripple _for God’s sake_ , so you went and devised a shitty plan to break him completely, together with the rest of your Shiratorizawa bunch of turds!”

“That’s not true, I didn’t plan anything-”

“Yes, you did! You took all this time earning _Chibi-chan’_ s trust and you were planning to end this by getting him drunk and having one hell of a gangbang, but that asshole got impatient and spilled out your scheme!”

Wakatoshi stares, unable to breathe all the sudden. He tries to feel angry – he _should_ get angry at the incredible shit Oikawa has the nerve to throw in his face – but the dread coiling in his gut overpowers anything else because he knows there must be some truth to it, that bastard must have made it look that way. He knows his former rival too well to suspect he’d go quite that far. Still-…

“It’s not true! I didn’t plan anything! I don’t even know-”

“ _Please_ , Ushiwaka! Why would your teammate lie about it?!”   

“I DON’T KNOW! I don’t even know that it really was one of my teammates that called Shoyou!!”

“Well, because he said that much!”

“Bullshit! That’s bullshit! It could have been _anyone_ claiming to be… to be from Shiratorizawa! He didn’t give his name, did he?!”

Only he knows it’s not true, because that voice was _much too familiar_.

Tooru’s index finger taps against his arm as he fixes the brunet with a cold stare, lips pressed into a tight line. “You know what, just drop it,” he states quietly after a long moment. “I don’t even want to know what this shit is, but you’ve done enough harm so I think you can be pleased with yourself.”

With that, he turns on his heels and walks away.

* * *

 

As he walks out of the café into the growing evening shadows, Wakatoshi feels the autumn chill creeping into his bones, ominous. An uncharacteristic torpor is taking over his limbs and he suddenly needs rest, needs to sleep so badly, to forget it all, because he doesn’t want to think and literally has no more energy to fight against the growing hole gapping in his chest. Shoyou is gone and there’s a stinging emptiness left in his wake. 

A muffled buzz makes him absently pull out his own phone from his pocket, but the sight of the lit screen abruptly shakes Ushijima from his state – there’s a new message from that unknown number. 

_“Still no luck with the Seijoh bastard, huh? At least I won’t have to deal with him too.”_

Wakatoshi flinches, nearly dropping the device and his free hand instinctively descending to clutch at his stomach. He doesn’t want to look at it anymore and swipes away at the glaring black lines, struggling to breathe. He needs to be reasonable about this, the brunet tells himself, he can’t let this bad joke – because that’s what it is, that’s what _it has to be_ – drive him up the wall like this!  He will find this bastard and everything will be cleared up if only he keeps his cool, if he-…

_But it hurts._

Shoyou looked like a ghost, like someone had drained all life out of him, to the point he wasn’t himself anymore. He looked broken. What if he really is sick now?! What if he went back to that weed den (which he never quit to begin with) and smoked himself into oblivion? What if he did something stupid?! But Ushijima can’t think of that, not right now anyway. If Shoyou doesn’t want to be found, he won’t find him and even if he does, he can’t make it better at this point. As painful as it may be, Oikawa is right – thanks to that _one lie_ it does look like he planned the whole thing and there’s nothing he can say to prove otherwise. Maybe he _should_ be offended that his boyfriend was so quick to believe that bastard’s lies, that he was so quick to distrust him, but… the appearances are not in his favor.

He needs help, but hates the thought of having to ask for it. He hates the thought and hates _himself_ , even as he punches in a quick message to Tendou.

* * *

 

“This place sucks hardcore,” the redhead points with a vague gesture towards the expanse of the empty diner, plucking another tissue from the box carelessly thrown in one corner of the sticky table and blowing his nose loudly. It’s too late to be having coffee and they probably shouldn’t anyway, judging by the dubious oily sheen floating on the surface of his cup, but Wakatoshi  can only stare at it numbly, his fingers stuck to the sides of the hot porcelain. At least, like this they don’t tremble anymore. “You said something very bad happened… Are you going to tell me about it?”

Tendou doesn’t look too good either – probably coming down with a cold if the growing pile of crumpled tissues is anything to go by – and he should be in bed resting instead of sitting here, about to be told how his friend lied and kept shit from him for no reason. In all these years they never had a fight, but Ushijima can’t help dreading they will have one now, his nerves are too worn to reason past that and this day has already been so horrible that he doesn’t see why it wouldn’t get even worse.

“My boyfriend dumped me,” he begins eventually, biting hard on his lip as if the sting can provide some comfort.

There’s none, instead tears well up and he swallows hard, blinking them away. He hasn’t cried since the day his father left. Words come hard, grumbled, pulled out with effort and probably not making much sense, and he doesn’t look at his friend as he speaks. It takes a while to get it all out and throughout everything Tendou is patiently quiet, only blowing his nose from time to time. When he’s done, silence stretches between them for a long, poisonous moment.

“Oh, Wakatoshi…” the redhead sighs eventually, reaching for yet another tissue. “I knew you were doing some shit.”

“What...?”

“You were being way too mysterious about the whole thing and from my experience when someone is being too mysterious there’s usually some big shit behind the mystery.”

“I’m really sorry, Tendou. I didn’t mean to-… I didn’t want to make it awkward, that’s why I didn’t tell you, although I was going to. That’s why I didn’t tell him either. I thought… well, I thought he wouldn’t date me if he knew.”

“How would you have made it awkward? I never cared about that match and he doesn’t remember it at all, so it means nothing to him anyway. It was only awkward for you, but it was _already_ awkward, no?”

Yes, except he didn’t really want to admit it until now.

“I really fucked this up, didn’t I?”

Satori bites his upper lip comically, something about his expression showing his lack of surprise at this.

“Well, it does look like you took advantage of Hinata’s amnesia and it adds up to what that guy said. It fucking looks _evil,_ Wakatoshi. You’re a troll. At least tell me you didn’t do this just for the hate sex.”

Okay, maybe he deserves this.

“I never wanted to hurt Shoyou, I swear. I-… It felt… so good being with him. I don’t know how to say it but we just… we _clicked_ , you know?” He truthfully can’t express it otherwise, other than it just felt right, that _Chibi-chan_ belonged with him. “And now I don’t even know where he is, he doesn’t want to talk to me, he-… he’s _gone_ , Tendou. I lost him because of this fucking bastard, whoever the fuck he is!”

The redhead lets out a deep sigh, leaning forward on his elbows. “Well, this might be an even bigger issue, especially if you say he threatened you… But what makes you think he’s actually someone from the team? Maybe he’s a fan of yours or something? Because I honestly can’t think of anyone from the team who’d be capable of something so fucked up.”

“I know that voice, Tendou, I’ve heard it many times before, I just can’t-”

His words are cut short as his phone buzzes on the table and Ushijima reaches for it automatically.

“ _Maybe I should have dyed my hair too – you seem to have a thing for red-haired sluts. Though I never got mad at Satori-senpai, he was older and more experienced, I could understand that (yeah, I know what you two did that night in the equipment room). But you crossed the line with that shrimp and I am going to take care of this._ ”

“FUCK!” the brunet whispers, throwing a frantic glance around the room. There’s no one but the waitress and an old couple in sight, but that’s hardly reassuring. “He’s here, Tendou! He knows we’re here, he followed me here, he-”

“Toshi, calm down,” his friend says, giving his shaking hand a squeeze after plucking the phone out of it. “Let me see.”

Satori takes his time staring at the message, tongue pensively poking the inside of his cheek. “Great,” he concludes eventually. “I don’t know what to say about this double-edged compliment though...”

“Tendou!”

“You’re right. For fuck’s sake, it was only once, we only did it _once_! And I thought we were alone...”

“But it turns out we weren’t! This guy was there and he couldn’t have been there unless he’d been at practice with us! He must have stayed behind to clean up or something.”

The redhead groans, running both hands through his hair, making an even bigger mess out of it. “Okay, look... You need to calm down, go and get some rest. I’ll see what I can find out in the meantime.”

Ushijima nods tiredly towards the untouched coffee cup, already knowing he would get no sleep.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! Okay, so today's chap is a little shorter, however get ready for the big reveal! And yeah, I've cut it short here, because up next the shit really goes down and it won't be for the faint of heart.

Two more days pass, this time in utter silence – there are no new messages and no news. Tendou is too sick to do any research – to do anything really – and since they eventually decided against making any phone calls to their former teammates (anyone could be the culprit at this point), Wakatoshi is left with all the work. He can’t sleep anyway, can’t focus on his classes, so he spends this time with trying to track down everyone from the team and see what he can find. Granted, he’s never been a very adept or fervent user of social media, but upon this occasion it is proving useful (or so he hopes).

The brunet flinches when the phone finally rings and he reaches for it with an absent hand, eyes still glued to the screen of his laptop. “Yeah?”

“ _It’s me, I’ve been thinking of something… Well, while I was being conscious anyw-_ ” comes his friend’s voice, soon cut off by a nasty coughing fit. “ _Anyway, I was thinking of that last message he sent you. The one where he said he wasn’t mad at me? There’s two things – he called me_ senpai _and he said he should have dyed his hair._ _I really don’t think he lied about any of this stuff, so from that we can determine that he wasn’t a third year and that his hair wasn’t dyed._ ”

Ushijima scowls, sticking his bottom lip out in thought. “Uh… Okay. I don’t know, I mean the hair thing is uncertain. I think he said that he should have dyed his hair red, not just any color, no?”

“ _Red is a tricky color, Toshi, it doesn’t suit just anyone, you know?_ ”

“Yeah.” Wakatoshi rubs his eyes with the heel of his hand, allowing himself a small break. “I couldn’t go with that though, since most of us were third years, so that’s where I started. I couldn’t find anything about Reon, but fuck, I’m pretty sure that wasn’t his voice. I just wanted to make sure, at any rate. As for the second years, it’s not Kawanishi either and Shirabu is engaged. Did you know Shirabu got engaged?!”

“ _No_ ,” Tendou says, blowing his nose. “ _Fuck._ ”

“Anyway, that leaves Yunohama and the first years. Fuck, I don’t even remember the reserves’ names… those two guys who-… Fuck.”

His head hurts.

“ _Sagae and Akakura? Hmm… I think it makes sense that it’s a first year though, since they’re the same age as Hinata and they were all practically worshipping the ground you walked on._ ”

Well, he could have done without all the worshipping… But that asshole did say that he would have done anything for him and it sounded so wrong, so fucked up that even the memory of it sends a chill down the brunet’s spine. He didn’t say ‘I loved you’ though, so it makes even less sense, because the other’s grievance seems to be romantic, he’s jealous of Shoyou and he was obviously jealous of Tendou as well. At any rate, the more confusing the nature of this absurd devotion he apparently betrayed, the more difficult it will be to deal with it.

“ _What the hell are you doing there?_ ” Satori inquires, and he realizes he’s started to mumble out loud.

“Nothing, I-… I need a break. I feel like a total creep going through everyone’s Facebook and Twitter and… have you even heard of this shit called Tumble?”

At the other end of the line the Guess Monster bursts into laughter, only to end up coughing even worse. “ _No, I haven’t. Pffffffttt…”_ There is a distinctive sigh, no doubt aimed at his ignorance. “ _Listen, try to get some rest and I’ll take over, okay? Let’s meet up later, I think I have an idea how we can find who the mysterious caller is. I’ll search the first years in the meantime._ ”    

* * *

 

They meet in the same place as the last time, which is far enough from campus, but Ushijima wonders if his stalker hasn’t by any chance followed him again. How did the other keep track on him until now anyway?! How did he get Shoyou’s number?! Actually, it’s not so hard. It’s not hard at all, he realizes, as Tendou – who fell back asleep and aborted the search mission as soon as he hung up earlier – reveals his plan. People are generally trusting.

“This is not gonna work,” he says regardless. “If he has my number, maybe he has yours too, have you thought of that?”

Satori graces him with a deadpan stare. “It’s a burner SIM card, grandpa… ” he grumbles, before waving to one of the young waitresses.

Wakatoshi can only scowl, arms crossed skeptically as his friend gives his instructions to the girl with a broad grin and a wad of yens for her services. To his surprise, she agrees. It’s not that much of a scheme though, all she has to do is call the mysterious number and pretend she’s from the phone company, supposedly to address a user data mess in their records.

He blinks and crosses his arms tighter as Tendou dials the number and puts it on speaker, so that they can confirm that it’s the same voice from before. To be completely honest, he wants to know who it is and also doesn’t. It rings several times, the seconds passing agonizingly, but then someone finally answers and Wakatoshi nearly jumps out of his seat when he hears _that voice_ again. Without the aggressive, vicious edge it’s even more familiar and the girl’s pleasant, professional tone even makes him stutter a bit. Typically.

“Motherfucker…” Ushijima mutters under his breath, left staring blankly at the upturned screen.

The girl walks away with a smile and Tendou bites his lip. “Are you absolutely sure it was him you spoke to?” 

“Yeah.” The brunet is pulled from his stupor and a wave of blinding rage replaces it. “Yeah, I’m fucking sure!” He grabs his own phone, only to toss it back on the table. His hands shake and if he tries to talk to the bastard now his voice will crack from the pent-up tension. “But it makes no fucking sense! I mean… Goshiki was a good kid! He was-… _What the fuck_?!”

“He was good at volleyball,” Satori points, reaching to pluck out a napkin. “It’s not like you talked to him outside of practice and stuff, so…” He pauses to blow his nose, then adds “And I remember that he was crying that day, when you held the goodbye speech for the team.”

“I don’t even understand what the actual fuck he wanted! I thought he wanted to be like me! Not _with me_! They’re two very different things!”

“Yeah, but you know, osmosis and shit. Like being around someone for long enough gets you to emulate their qualities, you know?” the Guess Monster explains.

Ushijima blinks, even more baffled if anything. “ _Osmosis_?! What the fuck is that?! It doesn’t work, does it?”

“Well, seeing how being around me didn’t make you any less oblivious, I’ll say no,” the redhead shrugs, scrolling on his phone now. “Oh, look. What do you know, he goes to your university. Business school, ha! Who would have thought?”

Great. At this point Wakatoshi is quite sure he doesn’t want to know any more about this fucked-up topic. Still, Goshiki needs to be dealt with and without his precious cover of anonymity - which he wasn’t even smart enough to preserve – the former Shiratorizawa captain thinks he can intimidate him sufficiently to make him drop any plans of further shit. Explaining this whole fucking thing to Shoyou is going to be more difficult though and he has no idea how to go about it. 

“It still doesn’t make any sense! He put it like-… like I _rejected_ him, but it’s absurd because he never said anything! He never came on to me!”

Tendou sighs, leaning forward on his elbows. “Maybe he did and you didn’t notice. What else is new?”

“I don’t have my head in my ass like that, Tendou! I noticed when Shirabu came on to me, you know?”

“Yeah, but Shirabu is hot,” the other chuckles. “And he might have been a little more forward. Still, if you ask me, Goshiki is the type that’s overly-eager innocent on the surface and creepy stalker underneath, as it turns out, and these people are strange. Like, since they don’t really have the courage to do stuff, things tend to happen a lot inside rather than outside. Like, in their head, you know? Maybe it’s just that you didn’t pay him any attention and to him it translated as a rejection.”

“And how the fuck was I supposed to guess that?! I don’t read minds!” Wakatoshi points, unnecessarily. “And anyway, even if I had rejected him – and I _would have_ by the way, same as I did with Shirabu – that doesn’t give him the right to step in now and fuck up my personal life and to threaten me!”

Okay, deep down Ushijima is quite aware that he’s still not taking his share of responsibility for _that_ and knows why it turned up as bas as it did. Clearly his boyfriend wouldn’t have been so quick to believe Goshiki’s horrible bullshit if not for his lying and he doesn’t even have the courage to search the Inter-high match up on YouTube and see what his own face looked like that day.

He doesn’t need to either – the game was brutal and it was full-out war between them. Fuck.

“Anyway… I’ll have to deal with this shit one way or the other. I’ll call Goshiki and try to reason with him,” Ushijima concludes. “After that… fuck. I-… I want to get Shoyou back, so let’s hope he’ll… I don’t know… at least be willing to listen to me. If he does, I’m going to tell him everything. The whole shit.”

The Guess Monster looks up at him questioningly. “The _whole_ shit? Even about your dad?”

As much as he might hate to, yes. After all, that’s how it started – the pain, the shame, the need to always keep a straight face and be perfect. And to tell endless lies.

“Yeah. His dad left too, when he was very little. And the guy left two kids behind, not just one, so that makes him worse that mine.”

“Wakatoshi… that’s not a competition.”

Of course, Tendou had his fair share of shit too, but not enough to lose sight of that. Wakatoshi however is still coming to terms with it – that not _everything_ is a fucking competition – that he doesn’t have to constantly compare himself to other people in his head and always come short for one reason or another.  


End file.
